


Silent Plea

by CalypsoHeidi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Draco Malfoy, Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Abusive Narcissa Malfoy, Anorexia Nervosa, Arthur just wants to help, Broken Draco Malfoy, Child Abuse, Dumbledore didnt know, F/F, F/M, Good Blaise Zabini, Good Neville Longbottom, Good Pansy Parkison, Helpful Hermione Granger, Hufflepuff Draco Malfoy, Hurt Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Bullimia Nervosa, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Luna knows whats up, Major lucius and Narcissa bashing, Molly is a great mother, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape is sorry, Sexual Abuse, Slytherin Draco Malfoy, Starvation, Verbal Abuse, Violence, Worried Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 01:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 105,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15595284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalypsoHeidi/pseuds/CalypsoHeidi
Summary: “I’m fine.” I’m not fine, please help me.“I’m just tired.” I can’t take this anymore“I already ate.” I starve myself“Go away.” Show me that you care enough to stay“I’m just cold” I don’t want you to see any of my scars.“I’m better, I promise” I’ve never been this bad.“I’m okay.” I want to die.





	1. I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> Children are like wet cement, whatever falls on them, makes an impression- Dr. Haim Ginott

Draco sat with his back straight in his chair, head held achingly high. As the last of the party guests disappeared through the grandiose doors of Malfoy manor, he turned to his mother in excitement. She had a soft smile on her face as she nodded at him, but halted him when he stood up about to run off. 

“Lace up your shoes, darling. We wouldn’t want you to trip.” Her smooth voice crooned, as she cradled her wine glass delicately in her arms. Draco kneeled down obediently to tie his shoe. It was incredibly complex. Draco gave up halfway through, instead tucking the laces into his shoe and leaving it there, hurrying off at a faster pace than what was considered proper. He heard his mother sigh in disappointment, having told him many a times that life wasn’t a race. He ignored her, rushing towards the display hall of the manor, wherein which he would have to take a short cut the elves made for him to get to his chambers. 

The hall twisted and turned far enough Draco couldn’t see the end, woven along the path worn and expensive paintings, books, and travelling trinkets proudly put up for show in clear glass cases and propped up around old chests. The smell of red wine drifted past his nose, mingling with the smoke of scented candles. 

Draco shivered at the remembrance of how one of the house elves had cracked the glass holding a tied up old map, kept like a treasure so long that even the slightest brush of the fingers was prohibited, in fear the delicate paper might tear. Draco hadn’t been able to sleep that night, hearing the echoes of his elven caretakers screams and begs each time his eyes drifted closed.

“Dobby?” he cheered brightly. The house elf popped into existence, wearing nothing but and old potato sack. The house elves had always been a constant in Draco’s life, shown by callous’ marring their bony fingers, and the gravel of their voice from years of hard work and labor. 

Draco gave the elf a triumphant grin. He empathized greatly with the elves. One year, Draco could’ve sworn he had gone with only the phrases of, ‘yes, sir,’ ‘certainly, sir,’ and ‘wouldn’t dream of it, mam’. 

He reached out to take Dobby’s skeletal hand so the elf could lead him through the easier way to get to his rooms. 

House-elves could apparate among the Malfoy Manor, yes, but Draco still wasn’t quite used to the flips of his stomach the trips constantly put him through. 

“Am I’s right to assume Young Master Malfoy wishes for me to take him to his room through the tombs?” Draco let a huff as the elf’s eyes widened and he slapped a hand over his mouth, before hurriedly fixing his mistake. 

“I’s meant to say the secret passage, Young Master Malfoy. Silly Dobby will make sure to iron his fingers and toes once he is done with his task.” Draco knew very well what the tombs were once used for, yet going through the old slave routes felt safer and faster than travelling the long distance with a whole bunch of items he could break and then get punished for. 

The tombs were for muggleborn slaves, who used to be bound by their neck and joints, dragged through the menacing dark path as their only means of transportation to get through the house. Draco didn’t particularly like the tombs, as he could still catch a whiff of the foul smell of urine mildewing the creaking old planks. Old rats and bogarts found a home in the abandoned passages of the manor, forcing Draco to seriously weigh the pros and cons of travelling through the elves secret passage.

“Of course, alas, you must remember to not refer to the secret passage by that dreadful name. I hate the reminder of what once went on in my own home, Dobby.”

He beamed proudly at his wide use of vocabulary, unnoticed by the stout creature helping him to the old candle sticks that parted only enough that Draco could crawl through on his hands and knees, which always made the stone irritate and burn his skin painfully.

Draco felt himself begin to stumble as the house elf picked up its pace, hurrying to get to the claustrophobia inducing entrance. 

Not bothering to request Dobby slow himself, he attempted to keep up with him only to trip over himself at the unexpected resistance from his feet. Stumbling to the side as Dobby let go of him in shock, he fell right into the wall back arching as he fell backwards further towards the glass case, ripping his back open in cuts as it shattered and tipped sideways. 

He only barely noticed the alarm that blared around the manor at the breaking of something so valued, instead turning to sharply command Dobby to depart. 

“but Young Master Malfoy-“ Draco shook his head dizzily. 

“That was an order.” The pain kicked in when he heard the pop of apparition send his friend away. 

Draco felt the horror creep up his spine as he examined his legs, staring at the glass and porcelain that had shattered all over him. 

But it was the broken vase before he really cared about. It had been an accident, really, it had. There is a ringing in his head and the taste of blood in the back of his throat, yet Draco cannot move even an inch, fear sticking him in place. 

Fear clenched at him, knowing his mother wouldn’t save him for his foolish behavior this time. 

Draco should’ve known, his father was going to kill him. He had just boasted about this case to the guest hours before, telling him how many galleons it had taken him to collect it. 

Draco sobbed. Pain clenched from everywhere, causing a sort of dizziness to wash over him. 

ItwasanaccidentimsorryfatherididntmeanydisrespectpleaseimSORRYishouldvelistenedtomom-

Draco sat limp on the floor watching in fascination as blood drizzled down his legs in small droplets, discoloring the perfect white tiles. White hot pain raced up the back of his thighs as the porcelain dug into his skin, sticking out grotesquely. He heard the click-clacking of his fathers polished black boots and let out a small terrified whimper. 

IshouldhavelistenedtomotherwhyamisostupidpleasedonthurtmeillbeBETTERwhatswrongwithme-

Fear raced through his veins as a strong grip wrapped around his forearm, hauling him to his feet causing the blood to rush out of his wounds at a faster pace. 

Draco bit down on another sob. 

“I’m sor-“

Slap. The sting hurt and temporarily distracted him from the pain coercing down his legs, before combining with it and forcing a whine out of his throat. 

Grey eyes met ones exactly like them. 

“You little shit” Lucius’ boot clamped down onto the steadily growing pile of blood, causing it to slosh back onto his leg both runny and thick at the same time. 

“How is it that every time I think you might incline to something, you disappoint me with shenanigans like this?”

I swear I didn’t mean to! I was so good today! Why did I have to ruin it? 

Lucius’ long, snake cane slams into the back of Draco’s knees forcing him to kneel in the blood covered shards. 

“I asked you a question!” his father hissed, grabbing his chin roughly. 

“I- I am unaware, sir...” he mumbles just above a whisper whilst adverting his fearful eyes away from Lucius’s cold ones. 

Draco moans as the snake pointed end of the cane hits him ruthlessly in the back of his skull, forcing his face into the bloody mess beneath. Gasps of pain fill the air, but Draco doesn’t struggle. 

That only makes it worse, makes him madder...

“You are unaware of why you behave the way you do? Really, because I was under the impression you did it just to spite me, to ruin the Malfoy name as you seem so eager to do!”

He tries to focus his brain on the words coming out of his father’s mouth, but his brain feels sluggish and there is so much pain he can’t stop wishing it away.

It’s not like he doesn’t know what his father’s saying anyway, he knows he wasn’t supposed to talk to the house-elves. And he knows that the vase was 

-Worth more than your life, boy!-

He doesn’t understand why he can’t talk to the creatures, they’re much better company than his mother.

-their worse than trash, beneath you! Do not waste your time on that filth, Draco-

He feels his father grip the collar of his shirt, and oh, he’s really done it now. He has no idea what Lucius could possibly want from him. He forces his focus on his father. 

“Do you know what I’m going to do, Draco?” his father chuckles snidely, and Draco knows his father is going to make him feel even more horrible than before. Draco coughs in reply, blood running form his forehead down to his mouth and eyes, obscuring his vision. 

“No, sir.” He wheezes weakly. 

Lucius laughs, slowly pulling his wand out from the tip of his precious cane. 

“I would use the cruciatus, but I’m afraid it might permanently damage your brain at this age...” Lucius muses to himself, a small chuckle rising to his lips. Cold fear rushes through him at that statement, knowing full well what it implied.

Not now, but later...

He pointed the tip of his wand at Draco’s head, and Draco’s eyes never leave the floor, even as he hears his father mutter the incantation. 

“Mortem Ardentiaque!”  
Draco’s world slowed as what felt like burning metal wrapped itself around his wrists, slowly creeping up his arms. Draco sobbed as the chain tightened its grip around his arms, nearly severing them off. It wasn’t until that new cuffs looped around his ankles did Draco scream, Loud and piercing he begged, begged him to stop the curse. Around his thighs now it creeps up to his abdomen causing him to writhe, trying to find solace from the pain anywhere. He screams as the burning sensation digs into, because he CAN’T getioffgetioffgetitoff! 

“it hurts! Ha-hot! Noooo please, st-t-t-top-p-p it-t-t-t!!” he pleads, slamming his head into the glass covered floor. 

He claws to no avail at the chains, trying to pry them away from his skin, but only burning his hands in the process. Lucius didn’t let up until the chain made its way to his neck, just close to killing him. He felt the burning receded for an instant, before returning full force with heat. It seemed to surround him, and e only wished he could through himself into the snow that was constantly covering Malfoy manors grounds.

There was a twisted sort of amusement placed on Lucius’ face, alerting the 10 year old he didn’t plan on stopping his punishment anytime soon. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. 

Draco wished Lucius had let the curse be done with him. 

 

\------

 

Draco awoke to the taste of iron in his mouth and pure panic. He knew this feeling well, his whole body frozen with the physical incapability to move. 

Slowly he began to twitch his fingers, warding away all the bad thoughts and things he hallucinated. He thought he saw a flash in the corner, and his body froze up once again, and he cursed himself. 

It wasn’t real,

He told himself. Moving his fingers and toes again, he slowly made his way to start kicking around and begin to flex his arms. Soon he began to gain his senses back, and with it, the fear dissipated into sickness. 

It had terrified him to move a single finger, but now, the churning in his stomach won over the fear of the dark and he was rushing to the bathroom, blood and bile spitting out of his mouth. His muscles seized up and tightened in shock from the pain on his lips and tongue. It was a nasty habit he had. During his nightmares it was almost guaranteed he would bite through the muscle in his mouth. Tonight, it seemed, his lips were a victim as well. Washing out his mouth, Draco glancing outside seeing the bright light he decided it was useless to try to fall back to sleep, especially if his mind was just going to be tormented again. 

He reached into his cabinet, causing all of his sore muscles to pop in and out. Draco sniffled. He slowly pulled out his toothbrush and floss, spelling his clothes to him wandlessly. Once he had spat out and gargled mouthwash thoroughly at an attempt to rid himself of the taste of blood, Draco ventured back into his room. He was fairly sure he didn’t scream, but he always put up a silencing charm on the walls anyway just as a caution. He grabbed his school bag, checking the time to see if breakfast was opened yet. He was fine. 

6:22

Damn. He really didn’t think he could face heading to the kitchens right now, he might have a panic attack. Seeing all the house-elves after that dream? Draco was going to pass. So, to distract himself from the hunger in his stomach, Draco busied himself with fixing up his hair into a tie trying out ways that didn’t make him look too feminine. He ended up tieing his hair in a Slytherin green ribbon, his hair just long enough to slide into it. It looked kind of cute, something a girl would find attractive. His swished his bangs over his eyes in annoyance at his hauntingly grey eyes, so identical to his fathers. He couldn’t help but exchange his normal sleek shoes with the boots his mother had gifted him in her all time goal to find a spell that would change him into a girl. Perhaps it was out of spite of his father, or genuine want for his mother’s approval, but he found himself liking the heeled boots a lot. 

Some people who believed in stereotypes would call him gay, and they would be wrong. Rest assured, he didn’t have the intention to cross-dress, he was just slightly more feminine than what was average.

It was Pansy that was gay. 

She had explained it to him once, It wasn’t that she didn’t see the attraction to males other girls her age had, or any reason not to like their bodies, it was just she preferred the idea of another female walking alongside him holding his hand and giggling like lovebirds rather than a male. She didn’t see herself as a housewife and she certainly didn’t see herself having a sexual intercourse with any male at all, top or bottom. He understood it wasn’t the norm, but Dumbledore was gay, and he had a lot of people who supported him. So why couldn’t she be a lebian, huh? 

Because her father would disown her for sure, besides, your betrothed to Pansy anyway, she can’t defy her fate at this point

Draco huffed at that thought, knowing full well his father would sooner imperious him the rest of his life then have anyone see a flaw in the Malfoy family line. Pansy at least would just be disowned. 

He decided to focus on making it through the rest of the day rather than on something he didn’t have any control over. 

He slid out of the Slytherin common room just as the clock hit 7:00, time always seeming to move faster in the mornings. Draco trudged along the halls, deciding there was no point to stride if no one was there to watch him. 

He was to go to care of magical creatures with the Gryffindork’s, and iwht those reckless fools, he didn’t think he could handle it. He was just fine with staying far, far away from the substitute and his fake classes, thankyouverymuch. Not only that, but he had DADA with them as well, and wasn’t that just great. Let’s put the two houses that hate each other in the most dangerous classes together, yay I’m stupid. Shit. He was being especially rude today, he was going to have to watch his tongue. 

Ever since 3rd year started, Draco couldn’t find it in him to keep rivaling with potter and company, too engrossed in his grades to care. 

Draco felt like groaning really loud when said Golden Trio walked into the Greathall, sending him a suspicious glance as they hurried to their less healthy food selection. 

Draco’s eyes followed one of the only professors at the hall slowly, watching him catch his eye. He froze wanting to turn away but inable to as the professor cheerfully made his way over to him. 

What the literal fuck

“Somebody’s up early,” Draco started as professor Remus Lupin gave him a pat on the shoulder, sliding in the seat next to him. Draco sent him a befuddled look. 

“This is the Slytherin table, you know that, right?” his new defense teacher chuckled, waving over to the goody-goody’s across the hall who looked like death had been served at their table. It was clear they had not wanted their favorite teacher interacting with him.

“I’m very well aware, Mister Malfoy.” He said condescendingly. 

“but your- you’re a teacher.” Then, after getting no reaction, 

“A Gryffindor, teacher!” Draco nearly fell off his chair when all Professor Lupin did was grab the apple out of his hand, motioning to take a bite of it. 

Oh no he didn’t 

He must have seen the dark look that crossed his face, as he shook his head muttering something about Slytherins and germs and wisely sat the apple back onto his tray. 

Lupin finally cleared his throat, showing he did have a purpose for disturbing his breakfast. 

“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some things. How convenient it is we’re up at and at ‘em at similar times, correct?” he smiled wanly. Draco regarded him carefully. 

“It certainly is, sir. If I may, what sort of things are you wanting to discuss?” he questioned, taking a small nibble out of his green apple without letting his eyes leave the professor. 

Lupin sighed softly,

“To be blunt, I would like to talk about this bullying behavior you’ve been demonstrating towards Harry, Ronald, Hermione, and many other students who’ve complained as well. I would just like you to know to meet me after class today, so we can have a chat. I, unlike some other teachers, do not accept this kind of treatment, and will if necessary take house-points if I see you causing any more trouble around here.” He informed him, a stern expression turning over his once gentle face. 

Every instinct his father had drilled into him screamed for him to show respect. Draco felt his shoulders square as he gave a curt nod. 

“Yes, sir.” Lupin gave him an odd look at that, but Draco just stared at him expectantly. 

“Well,” he beamed the warm expression back on his face. 

“If this works out I hope you will continue to come talk to me if problems ever arise and you need a good ear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go prepare for my class” then with a mischievous expression on his face, he retook Draco’s green apple from his plate, walking off with a triumphant bite. 

Draco felt himself deflate in relief, not trusting the man with his company any longer. He closed his eyes, awaiting Pansy’s arrival so he could vent what just happened to her. In the meantime, he poured himself a small glass of plain tea, and sipped at it halfheartedly. 

He smiled in relief when about 20 minutes later his adorable lesbian friend waltzed through the doos, looking radiant and energetic despite her peers’ sleepiness. Her outfit was risqué, bordering on going off the Hogwarts code. Her smile was wide and happy, innocent and sweet looking even through her inappropriate choice of clothing. 

Draco watched her shake her hips all the way to him, capturing the few people that had migrated to the Greathall at the early hours attention.

Draco laughed at her, “Lovely! You look like you’re going to star in all the Greathall’s next wet dream!”

Pansy, of course, being pansy, was delighted to hear this. 

“Really? Whew! It took me an hour to get these fuckers on!” she said, sliding into the seat next to him as she placed her long leg across his thighs, showing off her new shoes. Draco winced, feeling uncomfortable with the unwanted physical contact. He searched for an excuse that wouldn’t cause suspicion hurriedly. 

Draco groaned, “Pansy, you being homo doesn’t mean I’m not hetero” he complained, watching as her face flushed and she tried to inconspicuously peak at his pants. 

He glared at her, “Pansy...” he warned, and she finally stopped, turning away with a huff. 

“What? I’ve never seen a boner before, it’s not my fault!” Draco looked at her in annoyance. 

“How are you so inappropriate? You like, manage to say something vulgar with every sentence that falls out of your mouth.” She shrugged. 

“It’s a gift,” she patted his thigh, than reached over to grab an orange from the various fruit bowls they sat by. Draco knew he didn’t like to be touched, but she was always doing so anyway, trying to force him into feeling comfortable around her touches. And after all these years, it was working. He didn’t even flinch anymore when she raised her hand for a high-five, or gently ruffled his hair. 

That didn’t mean he was happy with her randomly jumping him, though.

Draco turned to her, a large pout on his face. “You won’t believe what happened today, lovely.”

She turned to him with interest, absently peeling her orange. “What, darling?”

Draco buried his face in her neck dramatically, better now that he was the one initiating contact, and showing her he was fine and wasn’t truly upset with her, “Professor Lupin stole my apple. He stole it! It was so horrible! My poor apple...it must be being tortured by the unhealthy diet inside of his stomach...” Pansy tilted his head off her shoulder, sending him a grin. “What now? Why was Professor Lupin at our table?” So, only because pansy asked, Draco ranted to her how horrible it had been. Pansy hummed thoughtfully. 

“So that’s why it looks like Potter just got told he couldn’t have sex on Hogwarts grounds! I was wondering about that...” Draco snorted at the innocent way she said it. He felt himself reprimand her on instinct, and she merely rolled her eyes calling him names and teasing him about being a prune. 

I only let myself use rude language in my mind, obviously!

They both waited for Blaise to make his way to their table, so their self-designated silver trio could go to class together. 

They decided they were the silver trio when they realized the golden trio just seemed to be that much better than them at everything. Weasley and potter were better at Quiditch than Blaise and him, Granger was smarter than him, Weasley managed to break pansy’s chess record in first year, potter was more popular than him, Weasley was stronger than Blaise....the list went on and on. So, unanimously, they decided they would accept their status as less and flaunt it, therefore creating the silver trio. 

Blaise eventually strutted his way down to them, hair perfectly styled and robes buttoned up just enough so you could see his white undershirt beneath. 

He supposed that was one thing they had over them, their good looks. 

Mentally grinning at his thoughts, he greeted Blaise by giving him a suggestive glance, pansy following his lead. 

“Will both of you stop it? Me and Daphne didn’t do anything, alright? We were just studying” Draco winked at him. 

“Riiiiigghhhtt” giving up on trying to convince them otherwise, Blaise being Blaise, had grabbed a cupcake from the Hufflepuff’s (whom never seemed to have real food) table, on his way over, and sat down with a satisfied smile despite his friends horrified looks. 

“Do you know how many calories that has in it, Blaise? Think of your future!” pansy sent him a scandalized look, popping another orange slice into her mouth, pulp and all. 

“Do you know, Pansy, that we only have one life to live? And cupcakes are one of the blessings this world has given us to enjoy those few years we’re granted?” Draco shook his head, agreeing completely with neither of them. Cake was a sometimes food. Not a never food and not an always food, just somewhere in the middle. Not that he’d ever had cake before, mind you, his mother would kill him. 

I might kill myself. 

He was fine. 

“Alright guys, lets head down to potions. We’ve got it with the Gryffindors, so we want to get there first so we don’t have to sit with any of them.” He spoke up, grabbing his bag from below him and making his way towards the exit. Pansy and Blaise hurried to follow him, beaming smiles on their faces as they talked. Draco let himself relax. These two always seemed to have that effect on him. 

Draco was followed by them the whole way to his godfather’s class, getting many admiring looks from students around them. It made Draco self-conscious of everything about himself, from his shoes to the way his hair fell around his face. 

Blaise being Blaise, taunted anyone who got in a 3 foot radius of them, and it took everything Draco had not to reprimand him. Blaise’s cruel words were literally making the crowd part for them, though, and Draco couldn’t help but appreciate not having to follow the student’s makeshift assembly line. 

Draco looked around his godfather’s classroom in disdain. It was dreary, lined with creatures hanging on the walls like a freaky museum. The constant dripping of a blue liquid slowly emptying itself into a pink liquid below it echoed around the room, ever so slowly turning the colors purple. The smell of iron and something else that closely resembled mint floated around the air. An old clock hung on the wall just behind Snape’s desk, constantly moving in circles and never stopping to give a direct time, all three hands merely working opposite each other. 

Draco found this clock incredibly unnerving, because whenever Snape entered the room, the constant whirring of the hands would stop, all always landing on the same number. 

Draco shuffled his way through the clambering students, dragging his group into the middle row seats impatiently. He and pansy sat at a bench, while Blaise sat next to his (absolutely official) new girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass. Pulling their books and equipment out of their bags respectively, him and pansy relaxed at getting to sit next to each other. Across the room Draco caught potters eye as the holier-than-thou party members seated themselves in a bench together, with potter next to Weasley and granger chatting with the Weaslette. 

There was a crash that snapped his attention away from the trio. 

Longbottom struggled with carrying his bag up to his seat, his legs jinxed together. Draco squeezed pansy’s hand almost to the point of breaking her bones to stop himself from helping him, but when he fell flat onto his face and even some of the Gryffindor’s snorted, his resolve disintegrated. 

Draco struggled over Pansy to get to him. 

“Draco!” she whispered frantically to him, “Snape’s coming! You’ll get in trouble!” ignoring her, he made his way to the pitiful boy, pointing his wand at him. 

Potter stood up, alarmed, “that’s cruel even for you Malf-” he trailed off as Draco gently murmured the counter curse, his wands light ways easily performing the spell with grace.

Draco leaned down to him, ignoring potters sputtering. “Are you alright, Longbottom? You seem to have found yourself in a pickle.” He offered his hand to the fallen boy, “don’t bother thanking me.” Draco gave him a small smile, but was interrupted by Weasely jumping out of his chair. 

“Neville! Don’t take his hand! He’s probably trying to curse you!” he yelped, rushing over to push Longbottom behind him. 

“Don’t you even think about it, you slimy git!” Weasley snarled. Draco carefully made sure he didn’t flinch, even though it was his instinct on raised voices. He curled in on himself defensively, 

“What is it, Weasley? Trying to play hero like Potter? Honestly, it’s like you imagine I’m some sort of demon.” He taunted, giving him a smirk. Briefly, Lupin’s talk with him crossed his mind, but he was to riled up to care. 

“Do I star in your nightmares, wittle ba-“ 

His mocking tone was cut off as a fist hit him square in the gut, forcing him to keel forward. Draco swallowed the blood that instantly made its way back into his mouth. He went to shield his face, but hurriedly hid his action by wrapping his hand around his stomach instead.

There was an abrupt decline of whirring sounds.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for rash and violent behavior, Mr. Weasley. You shall learn to control your temper in class, if you wish to not be subjected to a month of organizing my collection of creature organs.

“Now, take your seats. We’ll be brewing a Rithimus potion today, the ingredients will be marked on the board before you, as always.” 

Professor Snape made his way into the room, looking all too satisfied about having already found a way to force Gryffindor’s points down. 

Draco turned to Pansy and his’s bench, only to found Astoria Greengrass had taken it, smiling and chatting with a clearly joyful and flirting Pansy. He sent Blaise a death glare as he had only one job and that was to save his seat, but the other boy shuddered and dramatically pointed to pansy, making excessive hand gestures that definitely weren’t needed to describe the wrath he would’ve faced from her had he forced her to save the seat. 

Both of my friends are picking up a Greengrass?!

He looked back, noticing Longbottom had been carefully helped onto the bench that Potter was on, and then to Weasley, who was in a similar state of shock as him. 

“I haven’t got all day you buffoons, take a seat!” Uncle Sev snarled in his usual good mood.

Him and Weasley searched frantically, but found only one table left in the room, the one up at the very front was completely empty, no occupants in it even though it could seat two whole students. Weasley sent potter a horrified look, before glumly sulking next to him. 

Draco sat down, eyeing the other boy suspiciously. 

“look,” Weasley began as he scooted as far away as possible from him, “we don’t have to help each other, or communicate at all with the other. I’ll sit over here as long as you stay over there, and we’ll pretend the other doesn’t exist.” Draco scooted as far away as possible from the other boy as well, making them both needlessly on the edge of their seats.

“Alright Weasley, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Professor Snape cleared his throat, beginning his lesson with his normal flair.

“You are here today to brew a Rithimus potion, a potion that creates a poem based on your current feelings and life. Each team will work together to brew it, then they shall test it on each other to make sure it works properly. The poem can be taken home by you if you desire so, u may show it off like a cocky Gryffindor, or you can burn it as I would do, I don’t care. Keep in mind I am only teaching you this irrelevant potion because your headmaster deemed it to be a exciting project. So let’s have some fun. 

“Now, let’s begin the lesson.”

Draco side glared at Weasley, huffing indignantly. “Well our plan went down the drain.” 

Weasley snorted in amusement. “I’ll say. It’s like he does it on purpose!” Draco sent him an exasperated look. 

“You don’t know the half of it, Weasley! I had to deal with Uncle Sev as my tutor for eight years!” Weasley looked downright terrified, 

“Wait...Uncle?” Draco rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Yea, I call him that but he’s actually just my godfather.” He explained with a small smile. Weasley cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“So, er, I’ll get the ingredients you start brewing?” he asked hesitantly. Draco nodded, 

“Might as well” 

And that was how Draco found himself slowly cutting open a rat’s body, with Weasley wincing in disgust watching. He realized this was probably due to the fact the boys pet was one, and that made perfect sense. Draco couldn’t imagine cutting open his owl! Not even his mothers’, and that was saying something.

Draco reached out to poor it in, but his sleeves got dangerously close to the boiling concoction. He absently rolled up his sleeve, not caring that it was showing his arm safe with the mirror and glamour charms he had layered onto his scars and wounds to make sure nobody got suspicious. Picking up the innards once again to throw into the cauldron, he rolled up his other sleeve as well, finding it was more comfortable to have them out of his way. He sent Weasley a grin, who was staring at him funnily. 

Probably expecting a rude remark

But Draco didn’t dwell on it, as their potion was finally done. He gently pulled out a piece of parchment, watching as Weasley poured their potion in a vial. Snape slowly made his way around the room, going through each paper to see if words had appeared on it then writing a grade down on the page. 

Then it was their turn. 

Weasley giddily poured his potion on a piece of paper, watching in shock as it morphed into a poem.

He seemed ecstatic his potion had worked. Draco grinned at making that happen. Weasley held his hand out for a high five as Snape walked to the next desk over, but Draco hadn’t been expecting it. 

He flinched shoving himself back into the chair, fear crawling up his throat in a small whimper as he looked at the hand he had raised. 

His father’s hand curling around his throat, squeezing until he couldn’t see he hadn’t meant it, he was sorry, he would be better don’t do that god please not that curse I can’t take it-

Weasley’s shoulders slumped and he gently brought his hand down. 

“Sorry! I guess you would get the impression I was going to hit you with our history.” he mumbled gently, now just holding an open palm flat in front of him. Draco shakily clapped his hand onto Weasley’s, earning a large smile from the redhead. Draco felt a sense of calm wash over him as Weasley slowly nodded at him, as if in approval, then jumped up to follow the rest of his trio out the door, looking considerably happier than he had been when he first sat down with Draco. 

Draco stood up to follow Pansy and Blaise, whom immediately bombarded him with questions of the Weasley boy. Draco absently felt pansy tugging his sleeves back down, mumbling about stretching fabric. 

Draco felt like screaming about the fact he may have just made Weasely suspicious. 

 

\------

 

Ronald Bilius Weasley was, (despite the belief of his family and friends), a very attentive person. He noticed even the smallest of things. Like how all year Hermione had been swamped with grades. The encouraging glances mcgonagall kept sending her. The way harry was becoming more and more anxious as Sirius Black wasn’t retained by the ministry. 

Or how Malfoy had flinched abruptly away from him, if only for an instant 

He just wasn’t the type of person to brush an action aside, even if it was brief smile or a breathless laugh, he remembered it for later. 

So he had got suspicious, and a suspicious Ron was never a good thing. He usually liked to stay out of peoples business, (like Hermione’s distance from her family, and Ginny’s constant blushing and bumbling when exposed to Harry’s presence.) 

But something about this didn’t sit right with Ron, and he liked to follow his instinct. That gut feeling that told him not to let it go, despite his logic (that sounded strangely like Hermione’s voice) telling him that Malfoy was a Slytherin and he naturally valued self-preservation. 

This not-right-feeling had led him with an idea, and Ron, despite being a master at chess, had always acted rashly when it came to making a decision. This occurred to him as he read through the parchment in his hands. Draco Malfoy’s inner feelings. 

He was proud of himself he hadn’t gagged when he first read the terribly worrying words on the paper. 

He had stared at it in morbid fascination, shocked by the meaning behind the words and disbelieving to what it implied.

What could have driven Draco Malfoy to have such as dark poem? He had everything! He was an only child who was showered with attention, his father got him anything he wanted, he was wealthy beyond Ron’s imagination, and was loved by all of his whole house! 

He was missing something. Was it obvious?

He tugged on both of his friends’ sleeves, signifying they were going to be late for class (although with Hermione’s newfound transportation abilities he seriously doubted it would affect her) as he steered them into an abandoned classroom in worry. 

One thing was still floating in his mind, but he refused to consider it. Because it couldn’t be true!

“Ronald, hey! What is it Ronald? Is this about the chocolate frog card again? Because I already told you I am not giving you my Agrippa ca-” Hermione hissed at him, bouncing on her toes as she watched through the crack of the door the rest of their classmates disappear down the hall.  
She must’ve noticed the seriousness on his face because she trailed off, biting her pretty pink lip in worry. 

No, no! Not pretty! He couldn’t become love sick! Hermione had told him again again how brotherly he was!

“I never thought I’d be in such a dire situation where I’d have to say this but...” ron squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m worried about....Malfoy.”

Harry reeled on him in shock, and Hermione’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers from his statement. Before they could accuse him of having gone mad, he continued. 

“Hermione! You didn’t see him! You just-! Here! You have to read it.” 

Ron bit his lip, not wanting to say it. He gently uncrumpled the parchment he had nicked from Malfoy’s bag, handing it to Hermione in worry. 

“What is...?” she looked at the poem that was labeled ‘Draco Malfoy, O for outstanding’ skeptically. Ron hunched over himself in worry. 

“Just read it, ‘Mione!” Hermione cleared her throat as she began to read Draco’s inner thoughts poem out loud. 

“I am forever stained, with the ink of your dark soul. The words your tongue wrote on me, though now faded with the years, are still indelible and deadly, living somewhere beneath my skin. What is inscribed on a young heart, endures in secret, like a sorcerer’s spellbook hidden in a musty, timeless tomb.” Hermione swallowed, looking up at them with horror. 

“The words your tongue wrote on me, though now faded with the years...” harry trailed off with a sharp intake of breath, 

“but- it sounds like, abuse or something! Or, but...” Ron wanted to elbow harry in the side for managing to point that out so dramatically. Malfoy wasn’t something to decode, he was a person that potentially needed help. 

“Yea, but perhaps not physical abuse. He still could be referring to verbal abuse, and he carved the words that were told to him into his skin out of self-harm.” Hermione pointed out. Ron winced out how blatantly she put it, so much like something Hermione would say. 

“Okay, but what, hypothetically speaking, drove him to self-harm? And how has it been around for years?” Harry countered, biting his lip contemplatively. 

“You two! This is Malfoy we’re talking about! Malfoy who can’t even look at blood without feinting!” he interrupted their creepy speculations, earning a sheepish look from Hermione. 

Ron breathed in deeply. He knew he’d have to mention it at some point. 

“He, I think, well...you know how in books and shows they demonstrate a character is being bullied or abuse by the way they flinch or react to physical contact?” Ron found himself rambling, but caught the attention of Hermione and Harry’s natural curiosity anyway. 

“Well, I raised my hand for a high-five, and he like, he totally, backed away! Practically slammed himself in the back of the chair. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he looked terrified. Of me!” the room lapsed into silence. 

Hermione spoke up. 

“We should confront it this weekend, with the whole Lupin thing. For now, don’t act differently. If someone’s hurting him, we shouldn’t go to a teacher just yet. They might hurt him more if they find out he’s being suspicious. Or maybe we’re just overreacting, you never know.

“We have the perfect opportunity to strike this weekend. Honestly, I never thought I’d be glad you were going to have to stay with the Malfoys, of all people.” Hermione, ever the rational, ordered them. 

“Nonononono! You can’t pin some saving Malfoy mission on me!” He whined. Harry gave him an irritated glance, putting a sassy hand on his him that was supposed to come off as intimidating. 

“Not now, Ron!” then he turned to Hermione, “I think your forgetting something. Who could be available for abusing him for years?” harry reasoned, looking between them skeptically. 

Ron shook his head despondently. 

“I think your forgetting just who Malfoy’s father is.”

 

\------

 

Lupin’s class had been thankfully lacking of prying Gryffindors and instead including angry Hufflepuffs that kept mumbling about making Blaise puke up his cupcake and then forcing him to eat it again. 

They also frequently yelled things like, “I will avenge my cupcake, and kill a certain someone!” and “How dare you enter the Hufflepuffs layer? The THE IMPUDENCE!!! THE AU-DACITY!!! THE UN-MITI-GATED GALL!!! You called down the thunder. Now, get ready FOR THE BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!! Gaze into the face... of fear. BOOGA-BOOGA!!!” the occasional “You can torture us and bomb and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that? Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!”

Draco couldn’t quite decide if he was terrified or amused, but didn’t dwell on it and instead worried about Weasley.

Did he think anything was wrong? What if he knew what was going on? Was he going to tell any teachers? 

Pansy squeezed his hand worriedly, biting her lip and nudging him with her knee. He sent her a reassuring smile, she smiled skeptically back. 

Professor Lupin chuckled as he continued on. Draco quickly began listening once more. 

“Since to both my and the class’s surprise, the young Longbottom heir managed to decimate our practicing boggart, I’ve decided it would be unfair to make you do a report on it, even though my first idea was to have you write down what you assumed your boggart would turn into. 

“So class, instead, we’ll be heading out to Hogsmede to encounter an old magical creature that has been around for centuries, often tormenting us with its childish and rude behavior. Many muggles have even had to be obliviated from encounters with the pesky beasts. 

“Would anyone want to try guessing what mythical being I am referring to?”

Draco looked around to see Joe Eilyab’s, a young muggleborn witch’s hand in the air, “is it a trickster troll?” she wondered without being called on. Lupin gave her a startled look.

“My apologies, it is not. Very good guess though, I award you three points to Hufflepuff. Trickster trolls often target large city’s rather than small towns though. The creature I’m talking abouts goal is to make mischief and chaos to strike up blackmail usage for us wizards. While the trickster troll likes its identity to remain hidden from those it torments.” 

Draco had a hunch what it was, but hated not being sure and then being wrong. Even so, his hand inched its way into the air. 

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Lupin called upon. Draco straightened his back. 

“Is it an imp, sir?” Lupin clapped his hands. 

“Very good, Mr. Malfoy, I award you seven points to Slytherin!” 

What? Only four more points than the guessing girl? Why wouldn’t we all just infinitely guess to get points then, huh? 

“The imp is a creature that has not a known sure way of dying. Wizards believe they cannot reproduce nor grow old, and are just constantly looking for some form of amusement, finding it in pranking us wizards and witches.” Draco nodded. 

“So today, Hogwarts has received a rather distressing call in the disappearance of a heavily guarded painting of Helga Hufflepuff herself, the only painting of her left aside from the one here at Hogwarts. This tragedy was followed by several other odd occurrences from pots and pans vanishing, to whole houses being flipped upside down. Earlier this week people have claimed to hear random bouts of laughter, and pianos playing when no form of music was in sight. The villagers strongly suspect that the imps have returned as Hogsmede has a large history of the little hellions. I don’t know if you know this, but since the incident last year Hogwarts has been, er, well, financially tight. We were planning on hiring the aurours to deal with this problem, but they wouldn’t have it unless we payed a certain tax. But because of the sudden drop of funds from the Malfoy estate, along with other supporting businesses, we weren’t able to afford it.” 

Draco felt his eyes lower. His father had been inexplicably angry last year, and had gone much harder on him than ever before. He hated to be mad with his parents, but this seemed to go a little farther than necessary. Draco knew that if his father had stopped funding Hogwarts, than the Goyles, Crabbes, Parkisons, and Zabinis at least would all follow. That’s not including the wizarding debts (a magical tie that formed when one wizard does something nice for another, which then was to exist until they did something for them in return) the Notts still had to repay to their family, or the countless loans his family had provided for the Greengrasses in the past. Lupin had breezed over a clear problem. They couldn’t even afford to hire aurours! It should’ve only been about 4 sickles (A/N: I did a check, and the muggles guide to HarryPotter/magic/money on wiki said that a galleon could be in between 100 to 500 US dollars. They also said sickles ranged from 6$ to 30$ and knuts 0.20 to a dollar. I decided my galleons would be 500$, my sickles were 30$, and my knuts were a dollar.) per aurour they needed! 

The way it worked now (hopefully to be changed) was that every person paid any amount of money they chose to the government monthly, from 0 galleons to 50,000. (any extra money was counted as a donation) The more money a person gave, the more support and help a person received in a dire situation, like aurours. This was not the only thing the money was used for, higher paying people received safer insurance, and more utilities like school to be handled and paid for by the ministry. Draco was going to Hogwarts for free with how much his father supported the ministry, paying 120 galleons (50,000$) a year. While the Weasley’s probably payed 20 galleons (10,000) a year, meaning their Hogwarts fee was approximately 4 galleons (2000) per child a year. It was unfair, yes, but most wizingmot wizards were purebloods, and had money, so why wouldn’t they vote for such a law? It also kept muggleborns from becoming successful, as they had to pay back their Hogwarts fee eventually, and with no insurance or any of the ministry paying for the schooling it was roughly 20 galleons (10,000$) yearly, meaning they could easily be uprooted and kicked onto the streets.

With the way Hogwarts earns money, it should be cashing in about 560 (280000$) galleons yearly, without extra donations. 

Your probably thinking, yea that’s a lot, but then you’re not really stopping to think. 

Hogwarts’ sleeping arrangments are included in the yearly fee, along with every meal of the day. So with just running on the fees, Hogwarts manages to pay for classroom activities, owl care, keeping up on funding the library, and paying each teacher their salary. 

Hogwarts is running on donations. 

Except his father, and perhaps the rest of the bloods purists here, stopped donating to Hogwarts the extra money to ensure their children’s comfort. 

This wasn’t any old financial problem. This could mean bankruptcy, this could mean raising the yearly admission prices and cutting teacher’s pay. 

And with the whole Sirius Black situation, and the dementors that Hogwarts received to help protect it, he assumed they already ran out of their free aurour care from the tax they paid to the ministry. They couldn’t afford to pay for the aurours out of their pockets. 

Holy shit his dad might have just gotten them.

“So, I honor you with a special badge my students. It is your duty to find the missing items, along with to capture the imps that are causing us trouble. Of course, your work will not go unawarded, whoever manages to complete such a feat will earn a plaque for services to the school in the trophy room.” Draco was interested. This game could be fun. He felt his stomach bounce in exctiment, already wanting to be the one to capture the creature. 

“We’ve even decided to make a game out of it. The coming week will be spent studying up spells and charms to help ward and lure in the creature. Along with reports and other books to be read, we will begin the hunt this coming Thursday, followed through to Friday. If in that time no one manages to take hold of it, we will call the aurours to handle it, even with the high fee they want us to pay.” Draco knew one thing for sure. 

He was not letting Hogwarts go under if he could help it

Draco could take a beating from his father for disobedience if it meant keeping his beloved school safe. 

 

\------

 

As Lupin was ending the class the talk occurred to him and he nearly groaned. Pansy and Blaise had a free period, which was probably going to be spent checking out girls’ asses in the corridor, without catching McGonagall’s attention (which was tricky, he would know). Draco startled out of his thoughts when Lupin laid a hand on his shoulder, which seemed to be a habit the man had when facing a situation he did not appeal to. 

With a smile, Lupin lead him further into his office, which was almost as impersonal as his godfathers. Lupin sat him down and beamed at him, beginning his chat or whatever without any of the normal pleasantries. 

“So, to get right down to it, I’ll need to tell you what usually happens here will not” Lupin informed him, and Draco felt his shackles rise. 

Does this man have any tact?

“Of course not, sir. Although I will admit no professor has ever made this an issue before?” he made it come off as a question, implying that Lupin was supposed to explain ‘what usually happens here’

“Well,” he did that a lot, start a sentence with an adverb. “I presume that usually you come in, play it off extremely polite, give an excuse to your behavior, and then take a warning to not do it again?” most would be angered by these taunts, would already have challenged him, but fear rooted him down, keeping him in check. His father’s lessons rang clear in his mind. 

“Actually, sir,” Draco bit his lip nervously, curling in on himself at the danger Lupin radiated. ‘Actually’ showed that a person had been wrong, could be seen as a challenge. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said that nobody’s ever spoken to me about this particular issue before, sir, and I certainly am not down playing the rudeness of my actions. I apologize if I came off that way.” His voice didn’t shake, but Draco couldn’t get his eyes to meet Lupin’s, couldn’t force his back to straighten even though he would have got beaten for his bad posture. 

Lupin stood up, the scraping of the chair forcing a small flinch that he prayed the man hadn’t noticed. 

“You are good, almost as good as Sirius was” he murmured quietly, hand landing on his shoulder forcing another jump out of him. 

“The only flaw is, I know this game. You cannot simply get away with this cruel behavior. Now, if you’d please, I’d like to hear you’re so called reasoning for teasing those three so mercilessly.” Lupin relinquished his grip, only to grab the cup of tea and sip lightly, a challenge in his eyes. 

Draco swallowed, feeling as if Lupin was expecting some crazy outburst or something. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of it, he knew he wasn’t particular kind to Gryffindors. That didn’t stop him from fighting with them, though. Besides, it’s not like Draco was some big strong 6th year picking on first years. He was a skinny, small 3rd year taunting significantly stronger than him also 3rd years. He was just cruel, not a real bully. Maybe needed to be taunt to not use slurs.

“This seems a little unnecessary, professor.” He spoke slowly, attempting to calm the professor. He couldn’t help but dislike the man, but he didn’t do well with adults in general. Well, male adults. Females he just felt extremely anxious around, as if they were going to notice that his lips were chapped and his skin was slightly more tan than normal. 

Healthier

“Nope! I’d like to hear your well-practiced speech so I can tell what kind of liar you are” Draco wanted to groan. He didn’t have a fucking idea what to say. Maybe the truth? He supposed that might work. But he didn’t quite know for sure. He guessed he would try,

“um...i don’t have a spiel, I really wasn’t lying when I’d said I never got in trouble for it before, sir,” Draco mumbled, feeling shy about this whole thing. 

Mother hated it when he mumbled. 

His words seemed to surprise Lupin, seemingly realizing Draco really didn’t have anything planned. He turned to look behind him at nothing, then sat himself back down on the chair behind his desk, leaning forward. 

“Nobody’s ever confronted you for your actions? Ever?” relaxing slightly now that Lupin believed him, Draco let his bangs fall into his eyes. 

“Ever,” he confirmed. Lupin let out a long sigh, 

“Is the only reason you tease them because of their backgrounds, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yea, pretty much”

But Draco knew that was a lie. He was jealous. Weasley had such a, a good life, and all he ever did was complain. He had a huge family that actually cared for him and good friends who cared for him unconditionally. That’s more than he could say! Potter was good at everything he did, and his father was constantly comparing him to the golden boy, telling him he had to be better. And Granger! She was just a filthy mudblood! He didn’t mean that, that was a slur. But STILL, she managed to beat him in all his grades! Aside from potions, that is, but not from lack of talent, Professor Snape was just bias. His mother had been right when she assumed he was worthless. 

Draco saw the contemplative frown on his teachers face in worry. 

“Well, even I know that decades of family rivalry cannot be erased by a mere handshake. I have sent a letter out to you and Ronald’s families’, and have decided upon a project that would suit this situation perfectly. 

“Since all you have against each other is your families’ political standing points, then I’ve decided it’d be a good idea to have you two endure one another living conditions this weekend. Headmaster Dumbledore has already agreed it is a brilliant plan to get you two to get along! Ronald has already been informed of this project, I called you in to see if my assumption was correct, and it was.”

 

\------

 

Professor Remus Lupin had come across a pickle. He found, to his great dismay, that he couldn’t stop comparing his old friend to the boy before him. It’s just that, Sirius and him were so similar. They both came from old pureblood family’s, seemed to take their problems out on other people, and both could get out of trouble and lie with an ease that frightened him  
.  
When harry had initially confronted him about Draco, he had imagined some teenage prejudiced snob that didn’t really understand anything who had a complete disregard for authority. And while he tried to be as non-bias as possible, sometimes he did let personal feelings get in the way of his job. 

But Draco wasn’t that. He didn’t act like the bully, but like the bullied. 

He had long since learned to find the signs, the constant flinching and scooting away, how he never failed to end every sentence with a ‘sir’ or ‘professor’, Remus was invested. 

Way to invested. 

He could be overreacting, it could be he’s looking for something that isn’t there, too absorbed in his comparison to Sirius, but it was the mere fact he’d flinched back every time he even remotely made contact with him on pure instinct that showed there was something between the lines. 

And godamnit was Remus going to found out what it was.

 

\------

 

Draco felt the horror enter him at the thought of being forced to live with the Weasley’s for a weekend. It was going to be so weird. 

His parents were going to kill him. 

How was Weasley supposed to deal with his parents? That thought hadn’t occurred to him before. How the fuck would his parents stay in line? 

Draco suppressed the tears as he walked into the kitchens for the first time this year, startled when he saw his old favorite house elf serving a group of people he didn’t bother to see because- 

Dobby

He was so happy the little elf had made it out of that dreadful house, knowing full well the horrors he had endured at the hands of his family members. 

Dobby couldn’t save him from his family since he was still bound by the secrets of the manor. The house elf contracts all had certain conditions, and anything that involved him was kept under high wraps. Lucius was confident he was safe so long as the contract bound them, and draco would free him of the contract if he could, but he wasn’t he master of the house yet.

“YOUNG MASTER MALFOY!!!!!” Draco startled as the adorable elf barreled toward him, enveloping him in a crushing hug. 

The house elf buried his face into Draco’s knees, little sobbing sounds escaping his mouth. 

“Oh young master draco, sir! I missed you so much! Hows are you doing? Is the manor fine? Is master Lucius anger-“ abruptly the house elf cut himself off, slamming his head into the side of the table. “BAD DOBBY! Very Bad! Young Master Malfoy im sorry! I’s know you’s dislike it when I-” 

Draco kneeled down, gently gripping the house elf’s spindly hands. 

“That’s enough, Dobby.” Instantly the elf stopped, looking at him with more happy tears brimming his eyes. Draco chuckled good naturedly. He looked at the elf once again, taking a deep breath and wrapping his arms around the elf’s small frame. 

“I missed you two. I had thought that father mgiht’ve...i guess it doesn’t matter now. I only care your safe.” Dobby jumped up and down giddily. 

“Not just safe Young Master Mafloy! Dobby is free! And getting paid real gold now!” Draco’s eyes widened. He stumbled over his words. 

“What-? But...how? Who is, paying you?” Draco looked at him incredulously. 

“Hogwarts is, Young Master Malfoy! Can you believe it? A whole galleon a week!” draco felt himself smile. Hogwarts wasn’t exactly the safest place in the world, but it sure was his favorite place. 

“I can’t. Well, since you’re now free, I give you my personal blessing to stop with that absolutely horrid title.” He laughed as Dobby pouted exaggeratedly, giving him the stink eye.

“Fine then, I’s compromise with calling you Young Master Draco, but you’re not getting more than that!” he huffed, crossing his arms. Draco laughed happily now, surprised of the boldness the elf demonstrated. 

“I suppose that’s slightly better.” He gave a grin, and took in Dobby’s new look. Unmatching socks on each foot, a terrible maroon sweater, (where did he even find something that small? Is it a dolls? Oh, he and pansy were going to have fun with this!), and bright blue shorts that ended just above his bony knees. 

Dobby sent him a smile. 

“LOOK! Its harry potter! The harry potter! The one you used to read to me about in secret! Its thanks to him I’m free now!” his voice turned disbelieving when he said the word free, clearly still taking in his new life style. 

Draco’s blood froze at the words. 

He looked up to see potter and Weasley trying to contain laughter, and granger caught between a glare and a look of confusion. Draco stood up slowly. 

“Well then, as much as I loathe having to admit it, I owe you a thanks, potter. Don’t expect anything more than that, though.” Draco managed to barely control his glower.

 

\------

 

Hermione readied herself as she showed them the way to the kitchens Luna had taught her. The girl was weird, but Ginny liked her a lot, so Hermione hung around with her as well. Luna had said she liked eating in the kitchens, because she was teased by the other Ravenclaws and didn’t want to endure through that. 

Hermione breathed in, enjoying the smell of the kitchen around her. Ham and roast filtered through her nose, along with onions and maybe some celery. Bustling elf’s greeted her as she was ushered into the room by tiny hands and feet. 

Hermione had suggested this place because Dobby was here, and harry had said that was Mr. Malfoy’s old house elf. They were going to ask him if he knew anything about the treatment Malfoy received from his father. 

Hermione got on her tiptoes so she could move her hand in a spreading motion along the pears middle, still unnerved when the pear began giggling and laughing. 

Harry and Ron had been here before, when Ginny had initially introduced them to Luna, but didn’t like coming back because she was ‘rather scary when riled up, and for, whatever reason, the house elves’ lack of freedom riles you up.’ 

The nerve of those two! For whatever reason?! Ha! Animals in the muggle world get treated with more respect than house elves! Wizards were so outdated. 

Hermione gave ron a nervous grin as she sat down on a stool one of the elves imediently provided her, despite her protests of being perfectly capable of doing it herself. 

“That would be bad manners, mam! We elves shant be rude hosts!” 

Hermione looked around, waiting for the elf harry had known before knowing he would come with the news harry was here.

“Mr. harry potter, sir! What a marvelous surprise for Dobby!” she laughed at Harry’s disgruntled face as he tried to pry he house elf that seemingly came out of nowhere off of his arm. “Dobby! Even I need air!” he choked out. Hermione attempted to stifle her laughs before harry couldn’t notice her amusement, but failed as harry glowered at her. 

She turned her laughs into coughs as she hid her face in her arm. 

“Is there a reason why Mr. harry potter sir came to visit Dobby today?” the elf asked with a large grin. Hermione butted in, 

“Actually, Dobby, we would like to talk to you about someone you may know.” Hermione bit her lip nervously. Ron saved her from being the initiator of this conversation as he nudged the elf lightly.

“His names...Draco Malfoy?” Almost instantaneously, the elf stilled. He looked at them skeptically. 

So he does know him 

“What is you’s be wanting to know about him?” he asked, fidgeting uncomfortably. 

“how, how did-“ she was cut off by someone entering the room, gasping and looking ready to cry, was none other than Draco Malfoy. 

He eyes were bloodshot, his face screwed up in an attempt at a scowl, his lips parted to take shaky intakes of air. 

Hermione froze at the near impossible coincidence.

Dobby looked relieved though, “YOUNG MASTER MALFOY!!!!!” he yelled exuberantly. She blinked at his enthusiasm. The only elf who enjoyed freedom apparated over to him, crushing the blonde in a large hug. 

What the-

“Oh young master draco, sir! I missed you so much! How’s are you doing? Is the manor fine? Is master Lucius anger- BAD DOBBY! Very Bad! Young Master Malfoy I’m sorry! I’s know you’s dislike it when I-” the elf was slamming his head into the table again. Hermione thought he’d stopped doing that. 

But then his words kicked in. 

Hermione felt like she was piecing together a puzzle, only getting that much closer to solving it when Malfoy stopped the elf from harming himself, even hugging him with relief. 

Maybe he’d join spew!

No! Focus, Hermione! It didn’t seem like Malfoy had noticed their presence yet, seeing as he’d taken it upon himself to chat excitedly with Dobby, like old friends. He looked so proud of the elf, and Hermione forgot just who he was listening to their adorable conversation. It was clear Dobby really like Draco. 

“LOOK! Its harry potter! The harry potter! The one you used to read to me about in secret! Its thanks to him I’m free now!” Hermione hardly registered the elf’s words. 

Could Lucius really be abusing Malfoy? It seemed pretty far-fetched, if you asked her.

She snapped back to reality at Ron’s laughter. 

“I didn’t know you read Harry’s book series! OH! That’s just priceless.” Hermione rolled her eyes at him, giving him a good smack on the head. 

“Honestly Ronald! Could you at least try to be civil? He was thanking Harry” Ron whined at her. 

“Hey! What was that for, Hermione!” she socked him in the arm for pretending he didn’t know.

She froze just before giving Ron a scolding because of shy laughter. She turned her head to see Malfoy, with his hand around his mouth and his eyes twinkling whilst giggling quietly into his hand. It was like she’d never heard before. It wasn’t mocking or cruel, but quiet and rang nicely in her ears. It was off pitch, and a bit awkward sounding, but it sounded genuine, really genuine. Malfoy’s eyes widened and stiffened at being caught laughing, his hand dropping to wrap around his waist protectively. She sent him an appraising look. 

“You’re welcome, by the way, Malfoy.” Harry spoke up, his eyes softening at the sight of him. Hermione shared a glance with him, both filled with determination and curiosity. Malfoy cleared his throat. 

“Likewise. I, of course, came here for a reason. Dobby, would you mind getting me a tea? You know how I like it.” He asked, sliding his robes off of his shoulders, revealing a white shirt with a Slytherin tie, tucked into expensive formal black dress pants. Ron caught her staring and glared at her. She just shrugged her shoulders. 

What? He was hot. You stare at girls all the time, hypocrite. I’m not going to start pining after him.

He had sleek black boots on, polished to the point of her being able to see her reflection in them. His arms were toned, but slightly thin and bony, his hair in an adorable tie. 

Malfoy made his way over to the chairs she was next to, humming in contentment when dobby served him a fancy looking glass of tea. 

“Is that why you’s ask dobby about Young Master Draco? You’s were to show him here as surprise?

Damnit, Dobby!

Malfoy glanced at her stricken expression in amusement, as if daring her to answer the question. He casually took a long drink of the tea, his grey eyes never leaving her brown ones. 

“Er, uh, yes! Yes, of course! Did you enjoy your surprise, dobby?” she smiled with her nose scrunched up, holding her breath to see if the elf caught anything suspicious out of her. Dobby gave her a large grin, running to her and bowing low. 

“Yes, Ms. Hermione, mam! I enjoyed it very well!” she looked at Malfoy to see if he was going to say anything, but he didn’t meet her eye, instead giving dobby a rare smile. 

Ron cleared his throat, looking at the tea in disgust. “What are you drinking, mate? That’s smells disgusting!” Malfoy’s face never lost the expression of amusement, offering the tea to ron with a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s green tea, certainly no sugar or milk. I have dobby boil the water, than take it off the stove. After about ten minutes or so of waiting, he adds the water to the tea. Boiling water is bad for the teas catechins, and since I know who you are, Weasley, catechins are the teas healthy chemicals.” Malfoy then took another small sip of his tea. Ron stared at him, aghast, 

“I think I ought sort out your priorities, mate. Enjoying food is certainly higher up than losing weight!” Hermione sighed audibly. 

“Well, I for one think getting expelled from Hogwarts would be an absolutely worse fate than death.” Malfoy sent her a ‘thank you’ look. He held his hand out at her and huffed indignantly.

“I think that’s definitely the order that should go in. My father would feed me to the dementors if I flunked out of Hogwarts.” 

What if he’s being serious?

Hermione smirked at Ron. “See? Malfoy agrees.” Hermione stuck her tongue out, trying to shake off Malfoy’s morbid statement. 

“Gah! You two or a problem when next to each other! Harry, back me up, mate!” harry instantly shook his head, panic written on his features. 

“I think both would be bad, but if the alternative to death is getting a dementor kiss for Malfoy, well, I’m just saying...” Hermione watched Malfoy choke slightly on his tea through a laugh.

Ron through his hands in the air, “I give up. You’re all hopeless.” Malfoy laughed quietly, but still blocked it out with his hand. 

Hermione couldn’t help but feel anxious. She wanted answers, and when she wanted answers usually she’d get to go search the library till dusk to find them. But this time, Hermione had a feeling none of the books in the impressive Hogwarts collection would have what she wanted to know.


	2. I'm just tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, afternoon, or evening.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin, 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the second chapter, details homophobia, anorexia, mentions of self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "Your life is a results of your choices, if you don't like your life, its time to make some better choices"

“Darling, will you get me another glass of wine? Thank you, my pretty boy” his mother cooed at a five year old Draco, her hot breath tickling his hair. He scooted out of the couch hey were sitting on in the living area, rushing over to a tap that was hung on the wall. 

The room was something to admire. The whole open floor plan was outlined in pure silver crown molding, detailed roses sculpted into it. The tall walls eventually came to a stop in a sort of hollow tunnel, slowly becoming smaller and smaller till it reach a point. Extravagant windows lined each corner of the room, the mulberry silk curtains soft and fine to the touch trailing down to hundreds of black roses fashioned on the bottoms of the silky material. A large fireplace similar to the size of a queens size bed standing up on the wall, glowing silver fire and sparkles shining along the room. 

Draco’s shoes clacked on the expensive tiled floors.

He hurried back to his spot on their rococo couch next to his mother, where she patted him in gratitude on the head. 

His mother’s perfume drifted past his nose, along with the foul smell of her alcohol laden breath.

She gave him a wavering smile, before leaning close to Draco’s ear, each movement loud and echoing in the open room. “Thanks, sweetie.” She kissed him on his temple with a drunken laugh. 

Suddenly, his mother pouted at him, opening her arms out wide, she egan making grabby hands towards him. “Dragggooon! I want a hugggg.” She whined, looking at him through her light eyelashes pleadingly. 

Draco obediently crawled over to her, narcissia instantly sliding Draco onto her lap wrapping his legs around her waist and pushing her head into the crook of his neck. 

She looked at Draco, giving him a secretive smile.

“Hey, my darling, want to play a game?” she weaved her hand through her son’s hair accidentally tangling her fingers in it. She huffed in frustration as she tried to yank her hand out, but unable to and ending up yanking harshly at his head, whipping his head back and forth. 

Draco whimpered. “Mother...Let me help, its ok.” He tried to soothe, gently untangling her fingers from his head with his own. She laughed at him in appreciation. 

“Oopsie,”she slurred.

“What game did you have in mind, mam?” Draco murmured, ducking his head submissively. 

“It’s a special kind of game...” she tilted forward and Draco suppressed a yelp as pain entered his legs at being over stretched from his mother’s abrupt movement. “You can’t tell your father about it, either. Okay?” she hiccupped. Draco nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yes, mam!” he chorused, just as they had practiced the day before. 

His mother flipped him over, her mouth beginning to move against his neck leaving a sloppy red mark and saliva against his skin. 

Draco’s eyes widened in fear, “I-I don’t like this game, mother.” He whimpered as her teeth dug into the skin behind his ear, his body sinking further into the soft white leather of the couch. 

“Don’t you want to be a good boy? Make your mommy proud?” she ran her tongue along the edge of his cheek, stopping just at the tips of his eye lashes and kissing them exaggeratedly, making the boy beneath her giggle. 

“Yes, mam, that’s all I ever wanted!” he says with conviction, watching his mother’s eyes darken. 

“Alright, baby, than you have to learn how to do certain things. How to make your mother feel good” Draco’s eyes lit up. 

“I want to make you feel really good, mam!” she lifted his wrist and sucked on it, forcing a shiver down Draco’s spine. 

“That feels weird...” he whispers frightfully, and his mother ran a hand down his hair comfortingly. 

“Don’t worry, it gets better...” she slowly began tugging the buttons of his pants. 

Draco couldn’t exactly place why he was afraid. But an odd feeling was pooling inside of his stomach, and as his mother tugged his briefs down to his ankles, and then completely off, it only increased. 

“Mother, please stop...” he whimpered. Narcissa pulled his face up, not deeming his question worthy of an answer as she bit into his mouth harshly with her own. She found his tongue, sucking on it until she could taste the copper running down his lips and into her own mouth. She moaned as she lifted her son’s shirt over his head, roughly pulling him back into her lap. 

Draco thought only parents were supposed to do this with each other.

Draco choked back a sob, but didn’t protest. Most of the things his mother taught him didn’t feel good. 

Like how much food was proper to consume. 

He got special kisses and hugs if he went a whole day with only drinking water (delicious, refreshing, filling water, free of calories), and while it often made him dizzy and really sick the next day, it was worth it for his mother’s praise. 

So Draco let his mother lift herself onto him, forcing tears into the back of his eyes that he did his best to ignore, let his mother continue to kiss him and hug him, even if he felt wrong and weird when her tongue would slide down the back of his throat. 

It wasn’t his mother’s fault he felt bad, she just wanted him to be perfect. 

And he would be perfect 

 

\------

 

Draco didn’t freeze up like he did when he woke up the night before. This time, he felt himself leap out of bed, tangling his fingers into the back of his head as he gasped in short, shaky breaths. 

-Red lips sliding down pale skin, be a boy good for me, you have to be a good boy-

Draco sobbed uncontrollably, feeling hot and uncomfortable in his own skin, feeling hands that weren’t really there trace their way down his face. 

-Don’t you love me? You’ll let me do this if you truly love me-

Draco begged the air for it all to stop, for the hands to stop making their way down his body, for lips to stop moving against his own, for everything to just stop please-

-Ahhh! Yesss. Right there, baby, ha! Do that again-

Draco shook his head, unable to talk because of a hand that wasn’t actually there, unable to scream or whimper or beg. 

-Blood falling down pale lips, air he needed air-

Draco ran to the bathroom of the boys’ bedrooms, locking the door tightly behind him and casting a quick silencing charm as he fell forward onto his knees before the toilet. 

Bile ran down the drain, sliding off of his lips and bringing a foul taste back into his mouth. 

-This is all your good for. Fuuccck! My little whore...-

No. Draco clawed at his thighs as he vomited nothing but excess acid from his stomach. Blood ran down his legs as wounds that hadn’t quite healed began to open back up from where his father’s cane had struck his legs. He clenched his eyes shut as he stumbled for the showers, turning it on to full heat and letting the scorching water run down his back as he curled into a ball to avoid the world. He leaned his head back as tears streaked down his face. 

His legs hit the wall of the shower, even in his curled up state. He pressed his face into the slick floor with a sob, moving so his hipbone didn’t press into the tiles that was nothing like the beautiful resin showers they had back at Malfoy manor. 

I will never be like them. I will be better. I will be better. I won’t hurt anyone. I refuse to hurt anyone. Ever. 

His stomach ached, his head throbbed, his mouth was painfully dry despite the water sliding in and out of it from the shower.

Draco forced himself to stand up so he could lather his hair in the Hogwarts shampoo and conditioner rather than his own personal soaps that were back in his room. 

Draco let himself cry, because he decided a long time ago he wasn’t going to be a Malfoy. 

 

\------

 

That morning had been significantly worse than just a nightmare. He had gone into a full blown panic attack, and now at breakfast he still felt he might still be having one. He could see Pansy’s worried glances and questioning looks, but Draco ignored them. 

He didn’t really freak out till he saw his mother’s white Barn Owl soaring towards him. 

The owl didn’t have a name (-it doesn’t need a name as long as it does its job properly, Draco-), so Draco had started referring to it as oblivious, for it surely wouldn’t bring him, the owls only kind caretaker, these hellish letters if he knew what was inside them.

“h-hey oblivious, girl, what did you bring me today?” he asked, managing to keep down his stutter. 

His breathing was quickening as he saw the familiar seal of a Malfoy equivalent of a howler. It was really just a letter with harsh words on it, and the seal was only there to instill fear into him when it came. The letter looked innocent, but he knew the words on there were going to harm him. He felt himself long to gag, his arms shaking. 

Draco had never been one to cope with panic with self-harm, though he had thought about it. To be honest logic was the only thing restricting him from trying it out. 

-Self-harming because your father beats you? You’re just doing the same as him then-

On the other hand, this letter was from his mother, not his father, so he wouldn’t be doing it because of his father. And it was not pretty. 

Draco wasn’t the type to deny things about himself, he accepted the truth, but didn’t show it outwardly, only inwardly. 

He knew he was underweight, at least nineteen pounds below what was average. He knew he was excessively thin, he knew he could see the outline of his hipbones and that he already had a fast metabolism so he was already going to be a normal weight without the crazy eating restrictions he set for himself. 

But he still couldn’t really see it. 

He wanted to be thinner, smaller, he wanted to be perfect. 

So, he had diagnosed himself with anorexia. But even though he knew he had a problem it didn’t mean he could fix it. It was still there, even though he’d researched pages upon pages of information about eating disorders, and knew it was only psychological, that he needed to gain weight if anything. 

But that didn’t mean he was going to. His mother would kill him. 

He would kill himself. 

He felt himself go numb as he excused himself from the table, getting a nervous hum in return from Pansy. 

Purging was not a trend, nor a choice. 

It was an addiction. 

He rushed through the halls, not getting much resistance as it was still early and most students were still in their dormitory. 

He made it to myrtles bathroom, not bothering with a stall and hurrying over to the sink. He opened the letter, and the first insult on the page resulted in puke sliding down the drain. 

He made it a game of sorts, every time she needed him to do something different he would shove his fingers down his throat. He wasn’t able to cast the vomiting spell, his wand core to light and goody-goody to allow such a dark spell to be performed by it. 

Tears and just bile now washed away down the sink. He felt a hopeless sort of emotion overwhelm him, with a mixture of exhaustion and determination warring against each-other. His vision blackened, and his head throbbed at how empty his stomach was, asking to be refilled with breakfast once more.

Professor Lupin had informed his parents of his actions, and while his mother didn’t disapprove of the bullying, she disapproved of how he had been caught. 

And of course, there was always the fact that this weekend she would have to play mother to 

-a filthy Weasley! I can’t even look at him without gagging-

And while she was at it, she had gone into a full blown rant about how he needed to improve, both his grades and his quiditch skills. 

Gagging one last time, he dared to look up in the mirror. His face was deathly pale, each red blotch on his skin sticking out sharply. 

He slowly washed the sink out, reaching into his bag for his tooth brush and toothpaste. Lathering the brush with toothpaste, he brushed his teeth until his gums were bleeding from how harshly they had been treated. He spat out, still feeling the effects from the purging in his throat. His emotional exhaustion made him seriously contemplate not going to school today. 

He convinced himself that was bad idea by negotiating Pansy and Blaise would think it was because he was avoiding Lupin. So he dragged himself to his feet and forced his body to finish his day.

He cast a spell to make sure his teeth were clean completely, and then another to fix his halitosis, meaning constant bad breath. Last but not least he healed the back of his throat and knuckles to stop both callous’s on his hands and swelling of his parotid gland. Sliding out a nutrient potion from his bag, he swallowed it in one go to avoid going through the foul taste twice. 

Pain laced through his back and as he attempted to stride down the halls to his next duty, which just so happened to be Quiditch practise. He nearly groaned out loud at that, how was he supposed to deal with flying after that episode? 

It’s a good thing it was free period before that, technically meaning that now was a free period and then all quiditch players got another freebee, but everyone else had to go to class. 

He decided he would head to the library, it was quiet and calming there and he’d be able to be even a little productive with studying. 

As he made his way to the library, he couldn’t help but go over his mother’s words. Digging his nails into his arm, he finally made it to the doors of the library. He gave the librarian a nod, before hurrying off to the transfiguration section. Transfiguration was his worst subject, all of it involved too much wand waving and not enough brain power. He was good at focusing, could put his mind to something and not take it off until he was done, but transfiguration involved forcing your mind to picture other things, waving your wand until it felt ‘comfortable to you’ and casting hard to pRonounce incantations that were all in Latin.

Draco made a beeline for the transfiguration section of the library, searching shelves upon shelves of dusty and old smelling books. 

He ruffled through pages with both jagged and smooth edges in search of a book with answers. He found one labeled “Most common reasons why some wizards never succeed at turning a rat into a goblet!”

He scanned for the first seat available and took it, hearing a mumbled reply from the witch across from him. Opening the book, he read the words quickly for anything that he might be experiencing. 

‘Transfiguration is the family of magical spells that are used for changing objects from one type of thing into another. It is a well-known fact transfiguration is one of the most dangerous types of spells a wizard can perform. Due to this fact, some wizards with a light magic wand core (such as a unicorn tail hair)-‘

“Oh fuck my life!” he groaned, and the girl he sat across from looked up with a giggle. She was pretty, and Draco couldn’t help but stare. 

She had long, almost wavy light blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a pert, small nose. She smiled dreamily at him, reaching out a slender hand to pat his hand gently.

“Trouble with transfiguration I see? I’m rather good at that subject. I might be behind you though, as I’m only a second year.” She slowly tugged her hair out of the odd clasps she kept it up in, forcing her locks to fall over her eyes and curl up even more around her face then before. He sent her a small smirk, 

“I think that the gods hate me. Because out of everything in the world my wand core had to be unicorn tail hair” he whined, even though he knew she probably wouldn’t understand the significance of his wand core. But instead of asking anything, she smiled. 

“Oh, I understand. I don’t believe in gods, I believe in the pooka, though. Ancient spirits that control ones luck. If you give them a piece of you in castor oil, then they’ll bless you.” Draco found himself leaning forward in interest, despite her crazy words. 

“What does ‘a piece of you’ mean? You mean like a hair or something?” the girl shook her head. 

“Quite not, you must use personal item of value to you, the more beloved the item is, the stronger the blessing.” She gave him a wispy smile, and Draco didn’t even realize she had laced her fingers with his he was so drawn in by it. “I could help you with the ritual, if you’d like.” Draco found himself shrugging his shoulders. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he wondered aloud. The worst that could happen was death...so it wasn’t that bad.

The girl stood up, not unlocking their hands. 

“I’m Luna Lovegood, by the way.”

“Draco. Draco Malfoy.” And with that, he stood up and allowed her to lead the way. 

It was the first time he ever used his given name before his fathers.

 

\------

 

This was how Draco found himself huddling up in an abandoned classroom with a girl he found himself liking a lot. 

She was just so nice. 

And she didn’t make being friends with her complicated, or force conversations and pleasantries out of him. 

She was just there. 

He looked around the old room, skeptically sniffing, his nose instantly filled with the smell of some old permanent glue suffocating him. The room was hot, yet every once in a while a cold chill would creep up his spine and thighs making him shift uncomfortably. The sound of the window opening and closing at the end of the room creaked and sort of spooked him, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as some parts of the Manor were. 

“Ehem, Dragon, we must take this diary of yours and burn it in the cauldron filled to the brim of castor oil, so you may be granted luck and prosperity this coming week!” her voice a soft tune, delicate and yet held confidence unknown to him. 

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Draco didn’t even have the urge to tell her she just did. Instead, he gave her a soft grin. 

“Why not?”

“Why would you burn your diary? Aren’t you still writing in it?” her blonde hair tilted with her head, giving him an innocent look. 

“That’s my diary from last year. I haven’t gotten around to destroying it yet, so I thought I might use it for the ritual.” He explained with a shrug of his shoulders. Luna didn’t say anything else on the matter, instead asking him if he could perform a fire spell. 

“err...I’m real sorry but I’ve never been able to...” Shyly, he glanced at her through his bangs. She got up with a small noncommittal sound. She dusted off her checkered royal blue skirt, than offered him a hand. He took it and she hauled him to his feet a bit too fast. She gave him a startled look, 

“Ana’s following you around. She’s not the wisest, its best to ignore her.” She spoke like it was some secret, like it was life changing for him. He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He said in confusion. 

She dazzled him with a smile. “Before we begin, we need to chant some things. It goes like this... Accorde-moi la chance oh grand! Accorde-moi la chance oh grand! ACCORDE-MOI LA CHANCE OH GRANDE!” she waved her arms around her head, looking at him expectantly. He gave her a smile. 

“You know French?” he asked her, choosing to be amused rather than weirded out by her craziness. 

“My mother taught it to me when she was around. Her family used to live in France, but she was disowned. I suppose she felt that the least she could do for them was learn their language.” She then stamped her foot, huffing at him.

What happened to her mother? 

“Now come on! We have to chant the words while doing the hula-dance” and maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, or the fact this girl for some reason had caught his attention, or maybe he was just procrastinating learning transfiguration, but he did it. (He had never had much shame, wasn’t the type to be embarrassed. Couldn’t be with his family’s tendencies) 

And they killed it. 

“accorde-moi la chance oh grand accorde-moi la chance oh grand accorde-moi la chance oh grand-“ he hula danced (he had no idea what that was about) with her all the way around the cauldron until Luna halted him with her hand and put on a ridicules hat in a hurry. 

It was the most fun he’d had in a long time, and he was pretty sure the slightly insane girl was just making it up as she went. He let himself laugh.

She beamed at him then skipped over to the boiling castor oil. She handed him the diary, and gave him a stern look. 

“Don’t flinch, you tend to do that a lot.” Draco pouted. He didn’t do it as much as his situation demanded of him. 

“Ignis” she spoke clearly and powerfully. The book in his hand began to glow a red color. The tip of the pages you could see while the book was closed lit on fire, Draco instantly panicked. 

“Throw it in the oil!”

What?!

He didn’t even realize he had done it till the boom resounded and Luna had given him a triumphant grin. 

Smoke filtered through his nose, along with a red flash. Instinct drove him to tackle her away from the flames.

“Are you fucking insane?” he stared down at the girl beneath him in horror. She grinned lopsidedly at him, peeling up her smoke filled goggles. Ash covered her face, except the rings around her eyes where the protective glasses used to be. 

“That sounds familiar.” She giggled at him, and Draco tried not to admire how adorable her face looked all scrunched up. 

Draco rolled off of her, casting a scourging charm to see the damage. 

But there was none. 

No cauldron, no explosion, not a single scratch around the room. The only noticeable difference was the soot and ash that covered them both from head to toe. 

“what- but how...?” he looked at her with an eyebrow raised. 

“I’m impressed. The ritual really does work.” He accepted this absurdity in stride. Luna huffed in annoyance at him. 

“Of course it does. And by the patterns the ash has made on you, I can tell your going to be quite blessed for the next couple of days.” Draco looked around him in shock. 

“Okay.” He turned to her, a laugh slowly bubbling its way to his throat. He tried to purse his lips to stop it, but ultimately failed, erupting into numb laughter as he stared at everything before him. 

Okay. 

She triumphantly patted his shoulder. 

“I have to go now. I’m going to make some cupcakes with the elves to ward away Ana’s hold on you. I’ll send them to you tomorrow. Goodbye, dragon.” She skipped out of the room, soot and all, humming a tune he didn’t know. 

She just left? Just like that! SERIOUSLY?

It took him a second to realize he was admiring the way her ass curved around her Hogwarts robes. 

He still managed to be a horny teenager even with all the shit he had to prepare for this weekend? 

And then he remembered quiditch practice. 

Ah shit.

 

\------

 

Draco ran down the halls of Hogwarts like hell itself was chasing him. He turned the sharp corners of the unfamiliar area he was in with a slight stumble, nearly falling over in his haste to get to the quiditch field. He almost forgot he was covered in soot and hurriedly scourgified himself, even though it made his skin burn and turn a light red. 

He rushed to the grounds, heading for the locker rooms in a hurry. He habitually checked his glamour then with a quick disrobing charm he was changing into the new quiditch armor. It was more effective than last year’s colorful robes, and was changed because a poor Ravenclaw had been hit with a bludger square in the stomach, and hadn’t been able to return to the team due to internal bleeding. 

Blagh, he empathised. 

He strapped on the chest piece, looked into the mirror to make sure his clothes weren’t on upside down or inside out (like a blubbering gryffindor’s), then bolted to the quiditch field as fast as he could. 

His blood ran cold at the scene before him. 

The Gryffindor quiditch team, it seemed, had also booked the field for practice today. 

It looked way to familiar for his comfort. 

‘Nobody asked for your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!’

Draco shuddered as he slowed his pace to a walk and made his way over to the quarrelling teams. 

“HA! See? Told you he’d be here! Now, ya bloodtraitors can all make your way back to your dorms until we’re through with the fields.” He heard his captain snarl to Wood.

He caught Blaise’s eye, and saw the warning reflecting in them. 

“You can’t just always have the field! Other teams need to practice to, so you and your bigoted arses can all just leave us be and make your way back to your hell hole!” Wood was shouting now. He hurried over to Blaise’s side, his breath quickening. 

He hated raised voices. 

Potter stepped up, giving him a look between betrayed and resigned. 

That hurt. 

“Well I think we all need to calm down. There’s plenty of field for the both of us.” Potter, the golden boy, tried to reason. 

Blaise left his side to stomp up next to Wood, giving Potter a disgusted stare. Only Draco noticed Pansy rushing down the field, followed closely by an out of breath Granger. 

“I’d rather shove a broom up my ass, zombie freak” something snapped in potter at the insult. He jolted, his hands shaking in anger. Granger gasped sharply at the look on her friend’s face, muttering in quick succession to one of the Weasleys. She was trying to make her way through the quiditch players to get to him, but she wasn’t going to make it in time before he exchanged blows with his friend. 

“The fuck did you just-“

Potter stormed toward Blaise.

He rushed forward, placing his arms in a placating gesture toward the Gryffindors. 

“Now, now, Potty, Wood, let’s keep our head in this.” Draco racked his brain for some reasoning. “I don’t particularly feel like taking a second trip to the hospital wing this month. I already had that god awful broken leg from last time you knuckleheads lost your sanity, if you had any to begin with. Lets focus on coming to a compromise, shall we? Personally, I don’t think trading insults will help.” Potter paused long enough for Granger to make it to him, grabbing his forearm sharply. Weaslette (how did she get here) and Weaslebee also chose this moment to rush forward. 

Both twins shot the other knowing looks. 

Draco would have to remember not to call Potter a freak again (he called him a zombie plenty of times, so he was assuming that was what set him off). 

“You’re just going to take this shit from these fags? Well I fucking wont. Come on, Malfoy, lets see if they’re so tough.”

FUCK YOU, GOYLE

Draco, in his distraction to try to quell his anger, hadn’t heard Wood growl lowly at the choice of slur. 

He didn’t see Pansy’s lip quiver ahead of him. He didn’t notice the subtle clench of Blaise’s jaw. 

His panic rose as the voices grew louder, so many people shouting politically incorrect insults in the others face, kicks and curses being handed out in frustration. 

Terror kept him in place. 

He didn’t see the fist aimed at his face coming. 

The world seemed to stop as he flinched back, eyes going wide and hands coming up to protect his face. 

The fist stopped its descent. 

He whimpered in relief, falling on his ass, his breath coming out in short huffs.

“Fuck” he looked up to see Potter’s annoyed face staring down at him. 

 

\------

 

Harry laughed as Ron rambled about some super cool chess move a Slytherin girl had pulled on him that he didn’t even know existed. 

“Okay, so she was all like, I move my rook-, but then she also moved her king, it’s called castling and-“ 

“Ron! I have no idea what you’re going on about.” Ron pouted at him. 

Harry tugged on his knee plates strapping them as tightly as they would go in the back. Ron just rolled his eyes good naturedly at him, telling him he’d talk to Hermione about it later. 

He grabbed his broom and made his way to the pitch with a skip in his step. He tried not to think about Malfoy, the last person in the world he should be obsessing about. Especially with all the Serius black shit going on. Harry focused on reasoning with himself, like how everything they had found out so far about him cold just have been a coincidence. A house elf asking if his old ‘employer’ was angry because he had freed him UNWILLINGLY was normal. An angsty poem for a teenager was normal. Eating super healthy for a teenager was normal. Joking about parents killing you was normal (he thought). 

But that’s the kind of thought process that keeps kids in abusive homes, isn’t it? 

Shaking his head he tried not to panic when he saw the Slytherin team walking toward the field they had booked today. 

It reminded him of all the reasons he shouldn’t help Malfoy out.

He shuddered at the image of Ron puking up slugs. 

Harry felt his feet follow Oliver to the middle of the field, motioning for Ron to have his wand out and ready. 

“What are you doing here, Flint? This time, we have a note from our head of house,” he enunciated each word with shake of his head. 

“What? Today, the Slytherins are up. Professor Snape gave us a bloody permission slip, see?” Flint sneered, holding up the paper. 

Harry’s eyes immediately zoned in to find Malfoy, but saw, to his surprise (dismay?), he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

Harry glared at flint. 

“Your seeker isn’t even here to play. How do you expect to practice?” Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing his arms. 

“Unlike some, we don’t wait for every member of our team to practice, they either come or not. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be here in a jiff, Mafloy’s hardly ever late.” He countered, giving him a superior stare. 

“Stop harassing my team, Flint. He’s right, you know, if you don’t even have your seeker here then this practice wasn’t that necessary, was it?” he asked rhetorically shaking his head. 

 

“Shame.” He added sarcastically. 

Zabini growled in the background. 

“I told you already, or are you deaf? We’re not like you goody-goody Gryfindor’s. If they don’t show up, that’s their choice. We’re not going to wait around for them like freed house elves.” He scoffed at the mere notion of it. 

Ron glared heatedly at him. Harry could practically hear his thoughts. 

‘How dare-! I’ll just introduce you to an elf named dobby and he’s quite happy mind you-‘ Harry didn’t even remember when he got so defensive about it. 

Didn’t even remember when he got so defensive for Hermione. 

“Other teams have to practice to!”

“Your right. And they can book when we’re not training. Besides, why would we, their enemies, want to make their training convenient for them, honestly.”

“Look, after us the hufflepuffs are booked and we’re not taking their places because you can’t get off your highhorse-“ Flint cut him off. 

“If you don’t want to take their places, don’t. But we’re not bending our schedule to fit yours, Wood,” Oliver lost it. 

“You can’t just own the field, Flint! Other people have to practice to, you know, not just us-“

“You’ve already made that argument, Wood. I’m getting bored of your idle Gryffindor idiocy. Wouldn’t you agree, Zabini?” Wood groaned in frustration, trying to regain Flint’s attention. 

“Yes, right. Oh, and it looks like we’ve bought ourselves enough time to get our seeker back. It’s amazing they bought the lie we could play without him.” 

Harry saw red. 

“HA! See? Told you he’d be here! Now, ya bloodtraitors can all make your way back to your dorms until we’re through with the fields,” he snarled viscously at them. 

Malfoy hurried over to them at a brisk pace. 

“You can’t just always have the field! Other teams need to practice to, so you and your bigoted arses can all just leave us be and make your way back to your hell hole!” Wood, finally having lost his temper, shouted at them once more. 

Harry’s gaze moved to Malfoys, then back to the situation at hand. “Well I think we all need to calm down. There’s plenty of field for the both of us.” He attempted to calm them. The boy who had informed them of the snakes mind games stepped forward. 

“I’d rather shove a broom up my ass then practice with you, zombie freak” 

Harry froze at the insult. 

Freak. Freak. Freak. FREAK. 

BeinghshovedinaclosetpleasegodwhyamilikethisididntmeantodothatidontwanttobedifferentIKNOWIMAFREAK-

Harry pictured every time the Dursleys had told him that in a flash, every time he was locked in his old cupboard for doing something 

-abnormal. Keep your freakishness to yourself- 

He growled, stepping forward, but paused when Malfoy blocked his view of his target.

“Now, now, Potty, Wood, let’s keep our head in this.” Malfoy slowly looked between both sides, “I don’t particularly feel like taking a second trip to the hospital wing this month. I already had that god awful broken leg from last time you knuckleheads lost your sanity, if you had any to begin with. Lets focus on coming to a compromise, shall we? Personally, I don’t think trading insults will help.” Harry relaxed. 

Yea, that was true, he shouldn’t throw the first punch anyway

Freak

His stomach rolled. 

“You’re just going to take this shit from these fags? Well I fucking wont. Come on, Malfoy, lets see if they’re so tough.”

Harry registered the horror on the faces around him, before Fred’s foot slammed in between Goyles leg. 

Then he moved. He had Blaise’s face bashed in with a boils charm before anyone else could catch their bearings, snarling his frustration at the dark skinned boy as his knee repetitively rammed into people around him. Shouts raged around him, and he made note to the feminine screams warning them the professors were coming. 

He held out his fist to punch Malfoy on instinct, thinking about how Malfoy couldn’t even manage to throw a punch at anyone, the pathetic coward- 

Then he saw Malfoy flinch back a whimper drawing out of his mouth and hands flying to shield his face. 

The world slowed, the voices dulled to just Malfoys heavy breathing. 

He faltered. 

He remembered Ron, attempting to explain he just knew that he wasn’t flinching out of self-defense, that move was practiced, it was instinct. 

He suddenly understood. 

Malfoys eyes were blown wide, his mouth agape. He had fallen to the floor, hunching over himself, hands shielding his head protectively. He was shaking, his breath panicked as he whimpered quietly with each inhale. 

He cursed. 

Then hands were ripping him away from Malfoy, people were shouting, and he just barely saw the face of Minerva McGonagall and then a flash of Lupin’s disappointed gaze before he was being ushered away from the grounds, and into the castle. 

His vision blurred he was walking but the only thing he wanted to do was lie down, but despite the fact his knees kept buckling beneath him he continued to trudge forward until they made it to their destination. He saw the tell-tail sign of Madam Pomfrey’s outraged eyes alerting him he was in the hospital wing, before the floor was moving closer to him. 

“Mr. Potter!” 

 

\------

 

Pansy Parkinson was not having a good day. Her hair had been askew and her face was beginning to show signs of acne, Draco had been quiet and was withdrawing into himself again, and now Goyle had done an unforgivable (from her experience of being the never forgiven) thing. 

He had slurred against homosexuals. Males, to be specific, but she still felt something in her had been mistreated, that she was bruised. 

She saw Draco’s face tighten and his fingers clench as the bumbling fools continued to fight, despite her and the mudbloods (See? She knew she wasn’t supposed to forgive him. Granger hadn’t forgiven her,) attempts to warn them of the professors. 

She choked when a miss aimed elbow nearly hit her in the side. She was obviously standing here, wasn’t she? 

She watched as all of them were herded away like cows by Lupin, Snape, and Mcgonnagal. She hurriedly scanned for Draco, who was panting hard but didn’t look particularly bruised. 

She decided she wouldn’t take him to the hospital wing, as he seemed to hate it so much. Although, Draco didn’t like a lot of things, (so she wrote that off as her friend’s normal behavior). Mirrors, belts (he refused to wear one! Honestly), ropes, bugs, house elves (he avoided them like the plague), food, people, touching, hugging, yelling, he was the most negative person out there! She could count on way hand the things Draco tolerated, and that would take up two of her fingers. 

Her, and Blaise!

The boy was no optimist. He even hated bloody cake! How do you hate cake? 

Even so, Draco was her fluffy marshmallow, so she had to save him before Snape forced the boy to a checkup anyway. She slunk to the back of the (we’re not cows, professor, jeez) herded students, and grabbed Draco’s arm quickly. 

He made a sound of protest in the back of his throat as her hand clamped around his mouth (what a scaredy cat) and dragged him into a broom closet. 

“Just because your homo, Pansy, doesn’t mean I’m not hetero.” He hissed, not the first time he had told her that.

“Where’s the thank you? I just saved your ass from the hospital wing, nerd.” She flicked him on the head for good measure, rolling her eyes when he moaned in annoyance. Draco had always hated physical contact, since he was a boy. She could still picture five year old Draco yelling at her and Blaise not to sneak up on him. 

She suppressed a giggle. 

“We’ll wait until we can’t hear their footsteps, alright?” she breathed next to his ear. He squirmed underneath her, his breath quickening, but didn’t protest. 

Not even his parents were allowed to get this close to him. The most she’d seen Lucius do was put a hand on drakes shoulder, and Draco loved, well, admired? Lucius more than anyone she knew. 

She personally hated Lucius, so kept her opinion to herself when around Draco, although Blaise agreed with her wholeheartedly. He was just a creep. She liked Narcissa, though, the only problem was Draco didn’t seem to care for her in the slightest. 

She pressed her ear into the door of the cramped space, trying to see if there were any more footsteps. When the stomping and stumbling ended, she gently eased them both out of the closest, looking at Draco imploringly. 

“I’m just tired.” He responded, clearly having more issues than he was leading on.

Pansy let it slide. She had always been good at that. She had plenty of practice, of course. 

Her job wasn’t to fix Draco, it was to be there for him. To be someone he could trust. And if she told him repeatedly he had problems like Blaise did, that he needed to eat more, that he was crazy, he was an insomniac, that he almost constantly was on the verge of a breakdown, then she wouldn’t look like a figure he could confide in. It wasn’t her place, he was perfectly sane, just had problems like everyone else did. 

Pansy didn’t really believe in insanity, she believed in problems, in nice and mean, sadistic and masochistic, perhaps even evil and good, but she did not believe that people could title another person as wrong or bad because of mental state. There was ways for help, she admitted there were really bad problems that people needed to be put in the doctor for, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still have a life and a personality and feelings because of it. That doesn’t mean they’re broken, just cracked, and that surely doesn’t mean you have to act like their going to shatter because you have a conversation with them you would have with a ‘sane’ person. She treated every single person differently depending on their problems, and their sensitivity. She felt people were all different, that everyone should be treated with a certain level of respect, but not the same kind of it. 

Draco and Blaise were friends, yes, but she and Draco were something slightly more. Nothing romantically (obviously), it was more of a strong bond, an understanding of ‘I wont call you out if you don’t call me out’ kind of deal. She was a nonjudgmental character in his life. She took a deep breath, allowing him to change the conversation if he so pleased, putting a cheerful smile on her face that she couldn’t decipher between being real or fake. 

“Well Drake, I think we need to start up the rumor mill on how both the Slytherin and Gryffindor quiditch teams are out for the count.”

 

\------

 

Draco flipped through an old magazine as he watched with amusement Blaise grumble in his sleep. The boy was littered with bruises, and had ended up having a broken wrist and knee to. Potter was no better off with a second degree concussion and a broken nose. He glanced at the Weasley clan and noted that they were all in similar conditions. 

What was the point in beating someone up if you got hurt to? 

They could’ve at least all worked together, but no, he guaranteed half of Blaise’s injuries came from fellow Slytherins and their jinxes. He absently fiddled with the small cut on his lower back from falling on his ass in the field. He definitely hadn’t been targeted, which was unusual. Perhaps the Weasleys were worried their mother would ask questions about his bruises and they would have to admit they put them there. 

Draco though his mother worrying over his injuries was absurd, she would only want to make sure they were properly covered up. 

He flipped another page of Pansy’s Witch Weekly, his mission being to tell her if her mother had made it onto the beauty care area while Pansy worked on her history of magic essay. He glanced at said friend who was carefully rewriting all of her work in neat script copying off of her rough draft. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Draco turned to his left to see the mudblood (no, muggleborn) had just arrived to visit potter. 

Draco smirked, 

“Aside from visiting my friend after Potter pulverized his face, nothing in particular. Not that either of them were underserving of a good punch, but I rest my case,” he grinned, pulling the magazine up to hide his face. 

“Are you reading witch weekly?”

....and?

“And?” he raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“That’s a girl’s magazine, it has like, makeup and dress tips in there.” 

“I don’t define things I can and cannot use by body parts, Granger.” He drawled, crossing his legs at the ankles, demonstrating his boots to her. She flushed, 

“That’s not what I meant. I was just surprised, I wouldn’t have pinned you as the type.” Draco tried to suppress a smile, she walked into this one.

“You didn’t? Perhaps you should pay more attention to the ribbon in my fabulously soft hair. Why we’re on the subject, what type didn’t you pin me as?” Granger let out a frustrated breath. 

“Oh, I mean- the kind that- uh, it’s like! It’s not exactly a type, I was just saying that, you know? Like I was saying I wouldn’t have thought you would do something that leaned toward the feminine side!” she finally managed to argue back. Draco rolled his eyes, 

“Then why didn’t you just say I didn’t think you would do something politically considered to be something only people with a vagina and breasts can do?” Hermione spluttered. 

“I can’t believe you just said that! We’re in a hospital wing!” 

“First of all, can’t believe I mentioned body parts that all women have? Jeez granger, it’s just a sexual organ. Second, you just unproved your point. I’m sure the word vagina has been thrown around this room plenty of times.” Granger let out an embarrassed and frustrated squeal. 

“You’re so infuriating!” 

“What does that accusation have to do with our discussion?” Draco couldn’t stop his amused smile from sliding onto his face.

“You’ll never win, sweetheart, you might as well give up. He can be infuriatingly stubborn and will nitpick each and every syllable you use.” Pansy cut in, her eyes still glued to her homework and her hand still writing away. 

“I don’t even know why I’m talking to you. I’m here to bring Harry and Ron some chocolates.” She huffed, moving to the bed next to theirs to sit down her basket of sweets. 

“Because I’m an incredibly interesting and fun person to communicate with?”

“You just lied twice, so I highly doubt it.” Draco, finally sitting the witch weekly down, put a hand to his heart. 

“I’m hurt, Granger. I truly cannot believe your conscience allowed you to be so cruel. Just so you know, I am both fun and interesting as a human. Who are you to decide I am not?” He crossed his arm making fake crying noises. Granger rolled her eyes in annoyance, 

“Prat!”

“Ruuuuuuuddddeeee!” he accused, flipping over in his chair so his pony tail was brushing against the ground. Granger scoffed good-naturedly. 

“Oh, I was wondering Malfoy, this may sound odd, but would you like to join my club, me, Ron, harry, and a couple of the other Weasleys I could bully into it are the only members, so i’ll take anyone I can get.” Draco hummed thoughtfully. 

“Depends, will I need to be present in any of your dreadful meetings?” Draco questioned. 

“I can make an exception.” Granger responded facetiously. Draco grinned cheekily. 

“Okay then, what do I have to do?” he sat up, leaning his hands on his knees thoughtfully. Granger beamed.

“It’s a club that supports elven rights. I call it The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, or S.P.E.W for short. With the way you treated Dobby I thought you might be interested. I even made pins!” she held them up excitedly. 

Draco felt his stomach sink. He had paragraphs of fighting words and fair contracts made for rights of house elfs, but all were carefully hidden from public eye. Him joining this wouldn’t be like anyone else joining, not even Pansy. It would cause a riot. He might be titled rebellious by the daily prophet for all he knew. Pansy had already sat down her homework and was looking at Draco pointedly. 

His anger briefly spiked. 

Maybe he should join S.P.E.W, it would show them. It would show everyone that he wasn’t just a mimic of his father- 

No. He resigned himself to telling her off sadly. “Granger, listen. As much as I’d love to help, we live very different lives. I can’t join a club that promotes the rights of house elves without being in the papers. 

“I would godamning love to be able to help out, but...”

Granger bit her lip. “No, no, its fine, I just thought...” Draco cut her off. 

“But,” he stressed the word, watching Granger look up in surprise, “I can help you without joining. I have a couple of arguments and beginnings of rights signed up in some scrolls at the manor. I’ll bring them back this week.” Grangers smile was back. 

“So you’re like a secret spy! Working on the inside while I’m a public face!” Draco clamped a hand sharply over his mouth to stop himself from giggling madly. 

-No! no laughing, Malfoys do not squander around like filthy bloodtraitors-

Draco shivered. 

“Well, if we’re going to be secret agents, I have to get in on this. I’ve always been a good schemer. We could start with a big bang of freeing all the Hogwarts house elves! We can set off an explosion there, and have peeves demand professor Dumbledore come down, then we can-“ 

Draco shoved pansy face to his chest said girl letting out muffled screams of protests. “I apologize deeply for my friend. She tends to get carried away.” Pansy licked him in the arm, and his mind briefly went blank. 

Handseverywhererunnninguphisspinelipstracinghis-

He wrenched pansy away from him in shock. Pansy laughed triumphantly. “Works every time,”

Draco growled at her, still slightly shaken from her escape method. Hermione giggled,

“You two are adorable together!” He and Pansy paused, glancing at the other. Draco smiled mischievously at her. 

“Oh, we know, I’ve known her since we were four. We’re already betrothed and everything.” He took pansy’s hand kissed it delicately, hiding his smile on her knuckles. Pansy raised a challenging eyebrow. 

Shit. What did he get himself into?

Pansy giggled flirtatiously at him. “We have the rings picked out, too, he’s such a doll, his proposal was spectacular, why, it was just this summer. The rings are quite beautiful, two halves of the same whole.” Pansy slid her hand into his. “He’s all I’ll ever want.” 

He regretted everything. 

He regretted it more when Granger started squealing, “Tell me everything! When is it? I’ve heard wizards and witches sometimes form magical bonds with each other, have you two already done the rituals? I need to know, come on!”

Draco had to sit for the next hour of his life lying about being in love with his best friend. The worst part was, they were going to have to remember what they were saying! 

“He proposed under the moonlight in France, we were having these delicious baskets of warm bread at the time and then he told me he-“

Draco wished Blaise was awake, because he knew Pansy loved to boast and his only excuse to stop the conversation would be a comatose friend waking up. 

Why me?

 

\------

 

Draco watched with caution as the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams began waking up. The first up had been Weaslebee, next Marcus, then Wood, (which was the start of their problems), and slowly the teams were all conscious. 

He saw Pansy’s hand move toward her wand. 

Well, the only thing his wand could do was conjure a shield (Not that he’d want to hurt anyone anyway, but it kind of sucked he couldn’t even defend himself) so he was screwed if worse came to worse.

Draco slumped in relief as the professors made their way into the room, making a hush fall over the shouting of the students.

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, gesturing to Professor Dumbledore. 

“Would anyone here be so kind as to point to the most neutral candidates from each side?” he spoke calmly, like the old fool always seemed to.

Draco instantly raised his hand. “Granger and Pansy?” he suggested after being called on. Professors Dumbledore looked around the room. 

“Any objections?” 

Silence 

“Ms. Granger, would you be so kind as to tell us your side of the story?” Granger nodded timidly. 

“Well, as I see it, both Gryffindor and Slytherin got a signed letter from their heads of houses that they could use the fields. They got into a quarrel, the Slytherins didn’t have their seeker at the time,” Gragner non-discreetly glanced at him, “but during the argument he showed up. There was some slurs, and rude language directed at the Gryffindors, and Oliver lost his temper and ended up...striking Flint in the face. After that, the groups sort of started shouting at each other, and one thing led to another, they were all fighting. That’s the most unbiased way I can manage to put it.” Granger breathed in relief at finishing her explanation, clearly frustrated with being put on the spot to not rat out her friends and still remain neutral. 

A couple peoples voices rose. 

Dumbledore raised a hand, motioning to Pansy. 

“I was watching from the stadiums the Slytherins practice, but then the snitch got lost because Draco hadn’t been there to catch it. The Slytherins decided they should wait out for Draco after having to scavenge quite hilariously for the ball.” She chuckled nervously,

“...and then the Gryffindors came out, with the claim of having a note from Mcgonagal saying they also had permission to train on the field. Marcus antagonized Wood with word games, and the argument escalated. Wood, said something about the Slytherins being bigoted, or something politically incorrect, and Marcus lost it. He threw out some very cruel slurs, and finally Draco arrived from being late.” She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. 

“I- ugh, I hate this part. Draco and Potter tryed to quell their anger, but Blaise ended up calling potter a...Zombie? A Zombie freak, yes. Draco once again tried to manipulate the situation to calm everyone, but Goyle used a...derogatory word against homosexuals, specifically men. Wood and Marcus started screaming at each other, Potter bashed Blaise in the face, and then they all started acting like four year olds and beating the crap out of each other, aside from Johnson and Draco, that is. Both of them were kind of just frozen in place, I think shocked at the situation. Then me and granger noticed you guys coming and started screaming about it, and everything got a lot worse. 

“Draco tried to calm down, but he kept getting slammed in the knees by his fellow Slytherins, and Goyle and Crabbe were being pounded by the twins. Then Potter tried to punch Draco, and the teachers dragged him away before he could. Then we all headed to the hospital wing.

“Sorry if my story was a bit prejudiced, but I can’t help it, I’m still really pissed off.” Dumbledore chuckled lightly. 

“Language, Ms. Parkinson, you have to know your crowd.” Pansy looked at the floor with a half smile half grimace.

Dumbledore sighed in disappointment. 

“I don’t want to do this, but it seems it is the only way. I have decided to take 300 points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for their behavior, and give you a month’s worth of detention-“

Draco swore he heard the next words wrong. 

Nope, by the protests around the room, he said it. 

-Except each of you will have to experience this with your quiditch counterpart. The Slytherin seeker with the Gryffindor seeker, the Slytherin captain with the Gryffindor captain...i think you understand.-

Draco felt like eating a whole bunch of plums, which would be pretty deadly seeing as he was allergic. 

“Your detention will start after this week due to Remus Lupin’s current project with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, along with his, rather ingenious in my opinion, parent trap game he has going on with Mr. Malfoy and the youngest Weasley boy.”

Draco couldn’t process this information. Nope, it wasn’t happening. 

His father was going to kill them. 

And had the bloody chance to this weekend. 

Nope. Nope, nah uh, the Weasley project alone was already going to cost him his already minimal freedom, this detention was going to earn him 30 lashes to the back at least. 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. 

“We are also requiring a formal apology be sent to every separate person on the team as a whole by each of you. I hope you take this punishment as a warning this kind of behavior will not be tolerated on my grounds. Now, Madam Pompfrey tells me you’re all good as new, and none of you will have to stay the night because of Severus’s healing sleep potion.” Professor Mcgonnagal added, looking at them through the bottoms of her glasses. 

“I hope you all have a lovely rest of your evening,” Lupin tried to contain their abhorrence to this horrifying (yet probably justified) punishment. 

Draco felt dread pool at his stomach. He needed to get out of here, now. 

He needed to get out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.   
> Comments appreciated and kudos loved! Criticism welcome. 
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	3. I already ate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, afternoon, or evening, its calypsoheidi here. Sorry for the wait, I had lots to do these past couple days! Hope you like this chapter :)
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "Why did you try to kill yourself?"  
> "You told me to be happy."

Draco felt his father shove a black and gold lined box into his hands as they hurried through diagon alley. His father had a firm grip on his wrist, dragging him along through darker and darker streets as they finally made it to their destination. Knockturn alley. 

His father suddenly shivered in disgust as a hand clamped down on his boot, a sickly old man clinging to his father’s robes. 

Lucius sneered, “Get off of me you disgusting half-breed!” his father sneered, attempting to shake off the begging old man. 

“Please? I just need some spare change, lord Malfoy-“ Lucius slammed his cane onto the pitiful-

Disgusting, right, disgusting, just like father said- 

Man’s hands, but the stubborn half-breed didn’t budge.

He turned away as his father pulled out his wand on him, not wanting to watch what his father would do next. 

The window to the store his father briefly stated they were to stop by caught his eye, and black hair yes he knew that hair and glasses with ruddy robes- 

His eyes widened in panic. Potter couldn’t be here! He slowly began making his way towards the door, eyes never leaving Potters scared frame. 

Potter hid himself in a wardrobe as he opened the shops door, greeted by a vile smell and the feeling of dark magic surrounding him. 

He shuddered violently. Draco’s brow furrowed. What had potter been doing? He was staring at some silly hand, hand of glory, he thought it was called. He reached his hand out to see what the fuss was about, but gasped in terror as his fathers cane came down on his knuckles. 

He whimpered at the burning sensation. 

“Don’t touch anything, Draco.” He looked down quickly, but took back the action remembering Malfoys don’t lower their eyes, and looked back up at Lucius’s angry expression. 

“Yes, father.” He swallowed thickly, following his father with his body but the wardrobe potter was hidden in with his eyes, worry for potter clambering his thoughts. 

“Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again.” A hunched over man greeted his father with a greedy look in his eye. His father showed the man no such respect, giving the balding man a disinterested eyeroll. 

“-and Young Master Malfoy too, delighted.” Draco suppressed a shiver of disgust. 

That’s all he was, though, wasn’t it? A younger version of his father.

He turned away from the two of them quickly. The man began rambling about deals and such, but Lucius waved a dismissive hand. 

“I’m not buying today, Borgin. I’m selling.” The man looked at him skeptically. 

“Selling?”

“Draco!” His father ordered him, and he quickly presented him the box on the table, hurriedly turning away from the conversing adults, seeing that his presence wasn’t wanted anymore. 

Draco began looking at potters hand again, making sure not to touch it so he didn’t upset his father. He tilted his head as he stared at it, jumping when he heard danger enter his fathers voice. 

“That!” Lucius snatched whatever Borgin had picked up away from him. “-particular item, is not for sale.” The man began picking at his hands. 

“But I don’t understand, It has unique qualities, one wouldn’t want to see it falling into the wrong hands.” Borgin purred, looking up at his father with a cocky smirk. 

Fear rattled Draco’s breath. 

Draco heard a clink form the wardrobe and froze, as more shuffling occurred. 

His mind warred with rational thoughts and Griffindor stupidity.

He rushed over to potters stupid hiding place, reaching his hand through a birdcage on the side of it, pretending he had been the one causing the ruckus. 

Guess who won

Lucius’s eyes finally slid towards him, anger twisting his features. He lunged toward him, his cane slamming down on his shoulder, the snake slitting his lip and then clinking against the wardrobe. 

“What did I say?” he snarled at him, his eyes flashing. 

He looked down, his hands fidgeting in fear. He didn’t suppress the whimper of terror this time, his shoulders hunching. 

“Touch. Nothing.” Lucius didn’t remove his cane, only raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly.” His mouth went dry. He knew Lucius wouldn’t do anything right now, but you never know when they were in the confines of their manor how he would punish him. It might be too risky with the start of school year coming up, so Draco was left in the unknown. 

“Sorry father.” He breathed a sigh of relief as the cane was lifted off of him, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“Come on, we’re going.” He snarled, gripping his wrist tightly. 

“It’s a pleasure to do business with you, Mr. Malfoy, always a pleasure.”

His father ignored the man’s nasally voice as they stalked back onto the streets, Draco trying not to gag as he saw the once begging man torn to pieces on the floor, his flesh peeling off of his bones as black and red chunks of blood pooled around him. 

Dead, his father had killed him.

He closed his eyes tightly as his father dragged him off to their next destination, thankfully back in diagon alley, to get his books. 

The light cleared his vision, giving him a better view of the buildings around him, but he had no time to read any signs as he was dragged into one of the stores. 

He felt himself shudder, hoping he would buy all the books his mother had wanted him to. He must meet her standards if he was to pass Granger in grades this time around. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to find anything his mother had wanted at all. 

Draco nearly groaned at all the flashing lights of the cameras, blinking rapidly to rid himself of the spots that hovered over his vision. He turned to his father. 

“Do I have permission to try to check off some things on my mother’s list, father? She’d be rather upset if I returned home without the items she wanted for me.” He ducked his head, staring at his father’s sleek shoes hopefully. 

“Very well, Draco. Meet me back here when that blubbering fool is done flaunting his nonexistent talents.” He could hear his father’s annoyance in his voice. Draco nodded obediently. 

“Yes, sir,” Draco squared his shoulders and made his way up the stair case to the side of the store that was thankfully not crowded. 

Draco clambered around every part of the store he could reach, collecting each essential item his mother had listed for him in the exact order she had put it down on the list. 

A book on the shelf next to the flight of stairs he originally took caught his eye, and Draco discreetly pulled it out. 

A book on what spells would make every day muggle life luxury. 

He skimmed the pages, looking up every so often to make sure his father wasn’t watching him disobey an unsaid rule. 

A particular page caught his eye. 

‘how to cover flaws in the skin-‘ 

Draco didn’t even think twice about ripping the page out of the book, shoving it into his pocket as he slid the book back into its shelf, looking around nervously. 

Draco’s eyes caught stupid black hair. 

How come he and potter seemed to end up in the same place no matter what he did to avoid it? Bloody hell, he was having a photo shoot with Lockhart and he still ran into him for Merlin’s sake!

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, potter? Famous harry potter, can’t even go to a bookshop without making the front page!” Draco joked, jogging down the last couple of steps to the staircase with a smirk. 

What he wasn’t expecting however, was an adorable redheaded ball of fury to step in front of his current stupid haired object of amusement. 

“Leave him alone.”

Aww, their in love! 

Draco grinned. “Oh look potter! You’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” his awing at their cuteness didn’t last though, as his father’s hand clamped down onto his shoulder. He froze in fear, his eyes darting to his father gloved fingers cautiously. 

“Now, Now Draco, play nicely.” His father cooed. Lucius’s gaze shifted to potter. 

Fuck no. 

His father smiled cruely. “Mr. Potter, Lucius Malfoy, we meet at last.” His father held out his hand for potter to take. 

Potter took it. 

Lucius shook his shoulder roughly, his eyes darkening further. He slowly moved his cane to potters face, brushing wardrobe hiders fringe out of the way of his forehead.

“Your scar is legend. As of course is the wizard who gave it to you.”

“Voldemort killed my parents.” 

Thank you? I had no idea? I’m confused, is this code for fuck you ya deatheater son of a bitch?

Draco tried to calm his nerves by forming humorous remarks in his head, thinking about how this situation wasn’t scariest in the slightest and quite hilarious actually. 

It wasn’t working very well, his father’s hand a reminder of that. 

“He was nothing more than a murderer.” Potter was digging him a hole. It was clear his father was pissed off now. 

Draco didn’t think about what that meant for him. 

“You must be very brave to mention his name. Or maybe very foolish?” Lucius smiled coldly. 

“Fear of a name, only increases fear of something itself.” Draco felt his eyes close in depression. Now that Granger had spoken up, he was screwed. Lucius was now more than just a little angry, he needed something to let it out on. 

His body felt sore just thinking about Lucius’s steel toed boot. 

“And you must be, Ms. Granger?” his father glanced at him for confirmation. He nodded in confirmation. Lucius tilted his chin up high. 

“Yes Draco’s told me all about you.” Granger looked confused for an instant, before she schooled her features. 

“And your parents.” He added, the slightest emotion sliding through his voice in disgust.

“Muggles, aren’t they?” he pursed his lips in enjoyment. “Let me see,” his father glanced around at the group pointedly pausing at the Weasleys. “Red hair, vacant expressions...tattered, second hand book...you must be the Weasleys.” 

Draco felt cold dread pool in his stomach at the similarity of their statements and assessments.

Not like you, never like you

“Children! It’s loud in here, let’s go outside!” A tall red haired man loomed over the children, and Draco instinctually backed away from the new threat, but his father’s hand forced him in place.

Trapped. He was trapped and there was no way out and so much noise! Nononono! Letgoofmeplease?! He had to get awa-

He grounded himself by pretending his father’s touch was comforting, not commanding, sat encouragingly, not warningly, was fatherly, not...not... 

He clenched his eyes shut tightly. 

“Ah! Weasley senior,”

“Lucius,” the new man, the Weasley father, he presumed, clicked his tongue in annoyance. 

“How are you doing at the ministry, Arthur, with all those extra raids? I do hope their paying you over time. But judging by the state of this, I’d say not,” he demonstrated the book he and picked up in his hand with a fake pitying expression. 

“I see no use in you being a disgrace of a wizard, if they don’t even pay you well for it.” His father grinned cheekily. 

“We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.”

Nonnononopleasedontstartthisnotnowicanthandlethismotherwontwantustobelatefordinnerpleas-

Draco tried to control his breathing as his eyes darted between the two men in fear. 

“Clearly,”

A heavy silence passed by as they both examined each other. 

His father was the first to speak, his voice hushed. “Associating with muggles.” He placed their book back into their cauldron snidely. “And I thought your family could sink no lower.” 

Lucius snorted, breaking the tense atmosphere. 

Thank merlin. 

“I’ll see you at work.” 

“I’ll see you at school.”

Not like you, never like you.

 

\------

 

Draco breathed in, staring at the ceiling at the memory. He was tracing the lines of the the millions of sea creatures that were woven into the ceiling despondently, his mind refusing to let sleep overtake him. 

He remembered just wahat his father had done to him to relieve his anger. 

He let out a choked sob, that wasn’t wet but dry and panicked, as his eyes fluttered at the horrifying though. He felt asleep and conscious at the same time, and couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back to the nightmare that was his father.

 

\------

 

“Shirt off, hands on the table,” His father was hissing in his ear, a hand clenching at the front of his shirt. 

Draco nodded submissively. “Yes, Father.” 

He slowly began undoing the buttons of his black high collared shirt. He tugged it off of his head, his fingers finding slight comfort in busying themselves with folding it, setting it on the chair next to the desk afterwards. His feet clacked in the silence as he moved toward the table, his hands resting on the desks surface, fidgeting and trying to be comfortable at the odd bent over position.

Draco heard his father hum  
.   
“Which one today, Draco?” His father gestured to where he was standing. 

Along the walls of his father’s office was a multitude of different sets of thin whips, all varying sizes and textures. Each prized torture item had a small set of three hooks they rested on, lining all the way up the wall to the ceiling and floor. 

He knew the question was rhetorical, he wouldn’t get a say. He also knew not answering would make his father mad, so he glanced to the side, his eyes shifting to the rope one, and even though it had ridges all along it, it was still the easiest to bare. 

“The rope one on your far left, father, would be quite merciful.” His father chuckled. 

“How sad it must be for you to realize I’m not a merciful person.” 

His hands started shaking. 

His father pulled out a dark leather whip, completely smooth with a silver curving handle. 

“Simple, elegant, effective...this will do just fine.” Lucius walked towards him, and Draco stiffened his posture, his back straightening, his arms, while shaking, clenching harder at the table, and his head forward so he didn’t have to watch. 

The first blow made his knees buckle. 

It was along his shoulder blades, leaving what Draco imagined to be a deep purple welt there. 

He bit his lip to keep from crying out. 

The next lash was on the middle of his spine, and had him gasping in pain as his nerve endings vibrated throughout the stinging throughout the rest of his back. 

He began taking sharp gasps of air, as three lashes hit him vertically down the whole span of his back in quick succession, his lips curling as his knees buckled again. 

He didn’t get time to straighten himself, instead his father’s whip came crashing down on the inside of his struggling to stay up knees. 

That one left blood sliding down his legs. 

Draco forced his mind to concentrate on the number of lashes. 

By the time his father reached twenty, his voice was horse from screaming and his back was bruised and bloody. 

But his father didn’t stop at twenty like was normal, instead, pulled out his wand and yanked him to his feet with his wrist, is back slamming into the desk. 

Draco groaned.

He didn’t even say anything, just curled his lip and let out a growling sound, his lips forming dreaded words he had only imagined he would hear. 

“Crucio”

The pain was like nothing else he had experienced. It came from everywhere, yet nowhere at all, and he didn’t even think about his harmed back as he collapsed to the ground, twisting on his stomach in pain. 

He realized only now he had been completely silent from shock, and this realization lead to him letting out an ear peircing scream. 

He writhed in pure agony as his father just wouldn’t stop the curse, he couldn’t even register the sound of delighted laughter from above him, only the fact that his want to die right in this instant had never been stronger. 

His whole body ached when the curse was lifted, his body in too much pain to move or to cry, just frozen in shock. 

“That was a bad idea” 

He heard his father mumble under his breath, but couldn’t find it in himself to care that his faher was admitting to a mistake as even now that the curse was gone he didn’t get relief from the ache in his spine. 

He buried his face into the ground and sobbed. 

“I guess I went a little overboard, but there’s no need to be so dramatic, boy.” His father huffed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed his wrist in disgust.

“Malfoys. Don’t. Cry.”

Draco spat at the ground. 

“Then I guess I’m not a Malfoy.”

The curse enveloped him once more.

 

\------

 

Draco awoke with a real sob this time, curling tightly into a ball and wishing for the day to come and the fear to go away. 

It seems to drag him, to find him no matter what, always clawing at him and forcing him back into the darkness, even at the happiest of times. As of now, he wasn’t even sure what he was afraid of, just that he was terrified. 

He tried to stifle the next sob, but then thought better of it, trusting his silencing spells, and let out a loud wail. 

He glanced outside, noticing the early hour for the nth night in a row, and peeled himself off of his sweat covered sheets. 

He walked with hesitant footsteps toward the door, hyper-aware of every shadow, every misplaced sound that rattled the short walk to the bathroom. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, opening the door to the bathroom slowly, his body shaking. 

Draco hoped it would all be over soon, for surely somebody up there (he didn’t care anymore, he didn’t. God, or the pooka, or perhaps another religion entirely for all he believed, couldn’t hate him so much that they would force him to bare his family’s treatment much longer), would let him die. 

Because fucking hell he just wanted it to be over. 

 

\------

 

Blaise smiled at Draco as he made his way into the greathall. He sat himself down next to his long-time friend, watching the subtle flinch of discomfort he made at the closeness of his seating carefully. Blaise scooted over with the disguise of trying to listen to Astoria’s quiet voice better. 

Draco breathed easier. 

Blaise never quite understood Draco’s dislike for physical contact, so he constantly was coming up with reasons in his head of why he was like this. 

Narcissa drank a lot, maybe she drunk when she was pregnant and he had some sort of mental disorder? 

Maybe this was an effect of his anxiety?

What if it was due to his family’s coldness that he became touch-starved and grew up without physical affection?

But whatever the reason was, Blaise learned to accept the quirk, like many others Draco had. 

Pansy had them to. 

She hated being scolded to the point where if you even told her her shoes were untied, she reacted like it was the end of the world. She would go quiet and her face would flush in embarrassment, her eyes going somewhere else as she tried to play it of like she was aware her shoes were that way. 

Both of his friends were unusually quiet today, and he knew why. 

Goyle’s comment about homosexuals had hit pansy hard, and Draco was stressing about this weekend and Blaise could see him writing down things to say and not to say on pieces of paper during breakfast, food forgotten. Could see Pansy’s spacy attitude and how she was either overly nice or going one step to far on her cruel jokes. 

Blaise struggled with staying calm, the only thing keeping him from bashing his fist into Goyles face the fact that he’d already done it at the quiditch pitch.

He only then realized he hadn’t remembered to get his dessert from the Hufflepuff table. 

“I’m heading over to the Hufflepuffs for actually yummy tasting food!”

Draco ignored him and pansy mumbled curses under her breath at his unhealthy eating choices. 

He snorted, walking across the hall unnoticed till he got over to his targets table, getting groans of acknowledgment from the loyal folk. 

“Whatever, I knew this would happen anyway. Just take it!”

“I can’t even- fine! Fine! Take it and leave!”

“BOOO! You don’t get to take our stuff!”

“Seriously, again? We should get the Ravenclaws to make us a petition about the other houses stealing our food.”

Blaise chortled, deciding he wanted a macron today, grabbing a bright yellow one with black chocolate in the middle. 

Typical Hufflepuffs, having to have their house colors dominate their beings. 

He grabbed a hot chocolate packet, then left the table, curses mumbled by every year of their house about his thievery. 

Ha. He knew just what to say to piss them off, 

“We’ll make a deal, you can take stuff form the Slytherin table in exchange for me taking stuff form your table, eh? Ehh?”

Their enraged statements disliking the Slytherin food followed him until he got back to his table. 

He gave Draco a grin, taking a large bit of his macron. 

He sat himself down, peering into Draco’s book bag with a curious lilt of his head. 

“Hey mate, what’s this book ya got here?” He pointed into the bag at the oddly textured book, uneven leather peeling off of it everywhere. 

Draco startled, sending him a bemused look. “Oh, that’s my-“

 

He trailed off as the groundskeeper bounded into the room, looking anxious and excited all at the same time. The burly man was wearing his moleskin overcoat, absently swinging around what looked to be a dead polecat. 

Aww, poor polecat, 

“All righ’!” he said eagerly pushing his way to the staff table, “yer in my firs’ ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five gettin’ everythin’ ready...hope it’s okay...me, a teacher...hones’ly...” 

The man was talking to the golden fartheads, looking all too pleased with himself. 

“That. It’s the only way to explain the book. Right there.” Draco finished, rubbing his head with a groan. 

Blaise snorted, but noticed the hall was starting to empty, everyone getting ready for their first class. “I’d better go. Divination’s at the top north-something tower and my dyslexia won’t help me get there in time. Bye Dray, have a lovely Care of Magical Creatures with...that guy...”

Blaise sighed, standing up, “That didn’t come off as encouraging as I wanted it to.”

Draco grinned at him, “At least you tried.”

Blaise agreed, laughing as he made his way to his new class. Today marked the day that they would have their first face to face encounter with their new professor since they were two weeks in to third year, and now that they had finished painting the dreams they received from the potion she had given them (brewed by Snape), and then giving a long essay on what the dreams could mean, if they knew the people in the dreams, and if all the dreams were somehow connected to each other, they were finally allowed to start the basics of the art. She had told them in her anonymous assignment letter that these paintings and essays were somehow supposed to tell her who had the potential to be a seer and who didn’t.   
At first, they were all going to go to her class, but she cancelled upon hearing Hagrid wasn’t allowed to have his first class yet. This had apparently befuddled her, and she had changed her plans, because according to her seeings it was crucial that they have their first class at the same time. 

The journey to North tower was a long one, and Blaise kept confusing west from east and norht from south...and south from east...it was just so hard. 

He didn’t get directions even the slightest. He had to pretend he was writing every time he had to figure out which was left and which was right!

He climbed a few last steps that looked rather promising, emerging on a tiny landing. 

Blaise looked around, slumping when he saw it was a dead end. He looked up, thinking absently to himself, 

Shouldn’t up be north and down be south?  
but startled when he saw a row of old wood planks, with a brass plate on it and engraved words. 

“Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher...No fucking way, I actually found it...”

Well, now what? He reached his hands up, standing on his tip toes to prod at the door, but leapt out of the way when, by some form of complicated magic, the trap door opened and down came a silver rope ladder. 

Blaise grinned to himself. He had heard stories of divination in the past, and knew he was going to like this just fine. Crazy was his thing, after all, and who was complaining about a crazy teacher that you could have fun with? Only idiots and...well, maybe Granger. 

He laughed to himself as he climbed excitedly up the ladder, the trap door closing behind him. 

The classroom was the. Most. Fabulous. Classroom he had ever seen, in fact, it didn’t look like a classroom at all! More like a cross between his grand-mama’s attic and a cute old tea shop. 

An array of low-tables were crammed inside the circular shaped room, all surrounded by little red poofy cushions, with gold tassels at the ends of them. Tiles with odd symbols and stories covered the floor, the ceiling hung with lights that had different thin scarves wrapped around them to reflect off of the tiles dramatically. It was nice and warm as well, a fire crackling in the corner of the room.

He giggled excitedly when a mystical voice like in a storybook spoke up from around the corner, 

“You my dear, posses the tranquility required for a seers eye. I can feel it in your aura of laughter and perhaps an edge of childishness. Your successful foretelling will save many people, if you use it with all the wisdom of an owls knowing gaze.”

Blaise suppressed a squeal of delight. “I hope that’s a good thing, mam.”

She nodded multiple times, pushing up her red rimmed glasses. “It is a very wonderful thing indeed!” her voice rose as she spoke. 

He took more time to examine her look now that she was ushering him to a pillow in the corner of the room. 

She had a slightly hunching back, her head wrapped in the scarves she seemed to love, judging by the design of her room. Thousands of sparkly cheap ass beads and medallions coated her being, the old green dress she was wearing hardly visible from all the accessories. 

He tried not to act like a child on Christmas. 

-but Blaise! You are a child! And it sure feels like Christmas- 

He ignored the stupider part of his brain. For now. 

He got comfortable on his fluffed pillow, examining the odd crystal ball in front of him. 

He looked around, noting he was one of the first arrivals. 

Score! So this is what punctuality felt like. 

It was odd. 

Blaise watched the Golden Trio enter the room, shifting expectantly in his seat. 

“Welcome, how nice to see you in the physical world at last.” She bowed her head respectfully. 

Blaise reached down to get his book, barely concealing his interest. 

He felt three people sit around his table, by the shift in weight, and sat straight up suspiciously in his chair. 

Godammit. 

“You three,” he hunched his shoulders.

Weasley covered his laugh with his hands.

Yea, hahahahhahah...VERY FUNNY. 

He turned away from them quickly as Professor Trelawney began her lesson. 

“Welcome, my name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending to often in the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my inner eye.

“So you have chosen to study divination, the most difficult of all the magical arts. I must warn you at the outset if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field.”

Relief flooded him. While Draco and Pansy were cool about it, it was still a very real problem that he had dyslexia. His mother had never really taken the problem to heart, always being very supportive about it, even as many of her pureblood friends sneered at him in disgust. 

He knew Draco got lots of shit from Lucius and Narcissa for being friends with him.

Even his tutors were stumped on the fact he was still having trouble reading bedtime stories from the beadle and bards book at the age of ten. 

The knowledge that he wouldn’t have to read to comprehend this subject was rejuvenating.

 

“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in area of loud bangs and sudden disappearing’s, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,”

His new teacher continued, eyes going wide as she pointed to Longbottom quite suddenly, “You, my boy, is your grandmother doing well?” blaise snickered as he stumbled over his next words. 

“I-I think so...”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear.”

Professor Trelawney looked away, as if confused, then shook her head rapidly and cleared her throat. 

“We will be covering the basic methods of divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear,”

She was suddenly pointing at some Gryffindor girl, “beware a red haired man,”

So pretty much just steer clear of the Weasley’s. 

The woman continued on, talking about future plans and how next Easter, she’ll lose her voice. After saying this, she claimed one student here will never return to this class, which was sort of freaky. 

She told another Gryffindor something was going to happen to her, causing her to practically shake in her boots or some muggle saying. 

After that, she had them all divide into pairs, and then come up to her and get a cup of tea to drink. 

He obeyed, groaning when granger ended up being his partner. Just his rotten luck, but whatever, she wasn’t ruining this for him. 

Ms. Trelawney stopped Longbottom by the arm, “after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

No sooner had she said it, Longbottom had shattered the teacup clumsily in his hands. 

She predicted it would happen!

When he and granger had their tea cups filled, they made their way to (of course) the table the rest of her gang was on. He chuckled at the thought of what his friends would say to that.

He applied a cooling charm to his tea, half listening as Trelawney blabbered on and on about having to drink the tea quickly. 

He laughed harder as he drank his tea, noticing granger staring at him peculiarly

“What are you laughing about, if you don’t mind me asking,”

Blaise waved a hand. “Oh, just thinking about what my friends would say about this.”

She sat her tea down. “What would they say?”

Blaise gladly told her, happy to have someone to vent to about the fact he would have to spend this entire class without his best friends.

“I was just thinking about Draco down right refusing to drink the tea, going on and on about calories and how -you’re not supposed to have leaves at the bottom of your cup! Those are supposed to dissolve, you psycho, and drinking fast is clinically proven to- 

“He would probably have some crazy fact up his sleeve no one else knew, and oh, Pans’!

“I can practically hear pansy’s gags as she tries to take a drink and then spits it all out, probably trying to call a house-elf to –Dear god, bring me some sugar and honey-“ at this he put his hands to both of the sides of his face, making a shocked look. 

Granger looked amused, her head titled to the side and eyes crinkled. 

“Aw, I can actually see Malfoy throwing a fit like that. He gets upset over the weirdest of things.”

Blaise laughed, burying his face into his hands. “You’re telling me! There was this one time, when we were like seven-“ 

He stopped talking squeezing his mouth shut as the teacher walked by, grabbing his teacup in the guise of drinking out of it. 

He lowered his voice. “When we were seven, he was visiting over at my house, and my mom suggested we go out for ice-cream, and, just, the horrified look on his face. He’s always been such a health freak! Mom bought one for him anyway, and he just shut down, balling his eyes out and wouldn’t stop until mum said he didn’t have to eat it! I was torn between laughing and hiding in my room.”

Granger’s shoulders shook with her laughter, she whispered softly to him. “Oh, you’re complaining, just try dealing with Ron and Harry! They are either planning to do something to get them in trouble, or already doing the something that would get them in trouble!” she threw her hands in the air, huffing, 

“Just last year, the three of us all snuck into Snape’s office to make a bloody polyjuice potion and-“

Blaise froze. 

“Wait, polyjuice!” he whispered frantically to her, “Drake was talking to Crabbe and Goyle last year and said that they were acting completely different, are you saying-“

Granger grabbing her sides, nodding through her hushed laughs, 

“You fuckers-“ both of them ducked into their tea again as Trelawney walked past them. 

“We better finish this tea.” She whispered to him, Blaise nodded. 

He easily downed the tea, passing her the cup afterwards. She finished her tea and slid hers over to him as well. 

“What was our next instructions? We had to match the books pictures with the dregs in the cup?” Granger nodded her affirmation. 

Blaise took a deep breath, marveling at how he could picture Draco hating the smell of this room, while he loved the calming perfumes. It reminded him of nights where he couldn’t sleep sneaking into his mother’s room and still catching a whiff of the perfume she’d been using that night, of days spent shopping with his mum to find just the right perfume that would attract her next boyfriend, of simply home. 

Draco hated perfume, hated most things. 

The grump. 

“Yours resembles the pinwheel, which means...that a child is being harmed! And then, the other one is two hearts with a cross through them, which it says stands for, a friend being in danger.”

Blaise rubbed his chin thoughtfully, ignoring the child in harm in favor of the fact his friends might be in danger. 

“Then there’s also a light-bulb, which means you’ll come across a life changing revelation.” She cleared her throat diplomatically, looking at him expectantly. 

Blaise stared at the leaves curiously, jolting forward when something drifted across his vision. 

A very bright light, warmth and peace, the crash of shattering waves, confusion and discomfort, once soothing light now blinding-

He focused harder. 

A person through the light, Draco, he was standing in a ministry courtroom. The light got brighter and then faded out abruptly, causing him to blink in shock. 

What the hell was that?

“What are you writing down?”

He hadn’t even realized he had picked up his quill. 

He put the note in his pocket, “My answer, just in case it changes next time and I want to compare them.” He covered up, shoving the note in his pocket. 

“Alright! What is my supposed fortune?” she looked at him expectantly. 

Blaise looked at the shapes before him once again, this time no odd flashing mutating his vision. 

“Umm...is that...uh...ngh, what does that say...c-cen no that means it makes the S sound...senteral? Central! Central...di-“

Granger looked at him oddly, he flushed. 

“How about you go slowly, start with the parts you’re sure of.”

Bliase scrunched his brows. 

D-i-m-e-n-s-i-o-n 

Men, he knew that one. 

S-I-O-N says shin. 

di-men-sion?

“Cent-tral di-men-C-O-N...no it’s d-dimen-sion...Central dimension.” Granger beamed. “Yea, just like that, you’ve got it!”

He turned away awkwardly. 

Granger pointed to another word in Trelawney’s book. 

“How about you try that one?” she urged. 

Blaise felt like groaning, he had just gotten the one before it, he screwed up his nose in concentration as she pointed to it, tea forgotten. 

D-I-S-T-R-E-S-S-F-U-L

Stress, full, dis, 

“Distressful...”

C-H-A-I-N-S

“Cha-ins, cha-ins, chai-ns...chains, Distressful ch-chains.” Granger beamed at him. 

“Do you have dyslexia, or some form of reading disorder?” she asked it quietly, giving him a concerned look. Blaise look away, abashed, 

“Yea, yea, I have a high level form of dyslexia. Reading just doesn’t come naturally to me,”

Granger patted his hand, then smiled excitedly at Weasley and Potter, 

“OH! They have theirs ready,”

He saw Granger lean over to see what was inside of her friend’s cup, 

“Right...” Potter muttered, twisting the cup in his hands, “You’ve got crooked sort of cross...” he glanced back down at his textbook labeled Un-fogging the Future, “That means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’ – sorry about that – but there’s a thing that could be the sun...hang on...that means ‘great happiness’...so you’re going to suffer but be very happy...about it...

“You need your inner eye tested, if you ask me,” Potter huffed, passing his cup to Weasley, the two of them stifling their laughter as Trelawney floated by them again. 

Granger groaned, “This is rubbish...” she whispered to them under her breath. 

Blaise felt his eyebrows crease. 

He wasn’t stupid, just a slower learner, like his mum said. That was all. 

Weasley peered into Potters cup, 

“There’s a blob a bit like a bowler hat,” he wrinkled his nose with effort, “Maybe your going to work for the ministry?” 

He flipped the teacup around in his hands, “but this way it looks more like an acorn...what’s that?” 

He scanned his book, 

“-‘A windfall, unexpected gold...’excellent, you can lend me some...and there’s a thing here...” Weasley turned his cup over again, “that looks like an animal...yea, if that was its head...it looks like a hippo, no a sheep...” 

Blaise tried to warn the two of them of professor Trelawney coming their way, but was too late. 

She grabbed potters cup out of Weasleys hands, 

“Let me see that dear,”

She began staring at the cup as if something was actually there, making blasie wonder if for her, there was, 

“the falcon, my dear, you have a deadly enemy,”

Granger huffed, mouthing off about you-know-who and how the whole world already knew that, 

“the club, an attack dear, dear, this is not a happy cup,” her eyes began moving back and forth seemingly without her knowledge, 

“Oops, I thought that was a bowler hat...” Weasley rubbed his neck bashfully, 

“The skull, danger in your path, my dear...”

This next part made Blaise freeze and jump in his seat. 

Professor Trelawney’s eyes drifted to the back of her head, and then she shrieked like a cruciatus curse was aimed her way. 

Students jumped up from their seats, Longbottoms second cup shattering into pieces, 

Professor Trelawney fell back into her desk, clutching her head tiredly. 

“My dear boy, my poor, dear boy, no...it’s kinder not to say...no, don’t ask me...”

Some Gryffindor finally grabbed her hand in concern. 

“What does it mean, professor?”

“My dear, you have...”

She screwed her eyes shut with a moan, “The grim,”

Blaise stiffened. In the wizarding world, that was a wolf symbol meaning death. 

If potter had it that meant...

Blaise licked his cracked lips. 

“The what?” Potter asked, showing he had indeed been raised by muggles, 

He wasn’t the only one who was confused, of course. Some muggleborns and a couple of oddball halfbloods look just as confused. 

But everybody else had frozen or clasped hands around their mouth in shock. 

“The grim, my dear, the grim!” she enunciated. 

“The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen - the worst omen - of death!”

Potters, along with everyone else’s in the room, eyes went wide. 

Silence descended, until Hermione snatched the cup out from off of the table, starign at it skeptically, “I don’t think it looks like the grim.”

She said flatly, looking unimpressed. 

Professor Trelawney looked at her with pity, her eyes speeding up their odd spinning.

“My dear, from the first moment you stepped foot in my class, I sensed that you did not posses the proper spirit for the noble act of divination, oh you see there, well you may be young in years but the heart that beats beneath you is almost as shriveled as an old maids. Your sole as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.”

Oh snap, Pansy would want a photograph of how pissed off granger looked. 

Granger stood up, turning to Potter, “I’ll be going to transfiguration, if you need me.”

Their treacher looked startled, her eyes stopping their flickering, “Did I say something?”

None answered as some of the other kids began to question Trelawney’s prediction of potters death. 

Some other kids began saying it looked more like a donkey, a couple Hufflepuff’s changing the patterns to happy ones with their fingers and telling potter they changed his future. 

Potter threw his arms in the air, “well when you’ve all finished deciding whether I’m going to die or not!” potter shouted, taking the room by surprise. 

They looked away sheepishly. 

”I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” their teacher straightened up, still cradling her head carefully, “Yes...please, pack away your things...”

Blaise carefully began packing away his stuff, happy with all the stories he’d get to share with Pansy and Draco. 

He hoped all divination classes would be this eventful. 

He almost forgot all about the piece of paper in his pocket. 

Almost.

 

\------

 

Draco’s stomach yelled at him as he and his new friend, (three, that makes three people who would tolerate his disgusting existence), Luna Lovegood, searched ways to defend himself against the imps he would be facing tomorrow and the next day. He was starving, and a delicious smell was wafting through his senses, coming from the girl next to him. 

He had skipped out on breakfast this morning, and had had a dreadful transfiguration class with the Ravenclaws who were all whispering to one another about something that happened in divination to potter, then had come here and do some research on lupin’s project on the imps, and Luna had come in after him from the kitchens. 

“More useless spells I’m not able to perform...” he threw the book aside, annoyance readiating form his being. 

“Let’s take a break, shall we? I think we both cold use one.”

Draco nodded tiredly, tidying up his books to the side absently. 

He was pretty sure finding something he could perform was a lost cause, they had been here for at least 25 min and every spell even closely resembling helpful he either couldn’t perform because it was too high of a level, or his bloody wand was to pure to allow. 

“I brought you something to help with Ana’s tendency to stalk people.” She said cheerfully, giving him a giddy smile like tropical fruit and spice. 

“Oh? Well you didn’t have to get me anything, I hardly know you.”

“That’s quite alright! I rather enjoy giving people presents!” she huffed, blowing her blonde locks away from her eyes. 

“I didn’t know which flavor you liked, so I apologize in advance if you don’t prefer vanilla.”

She nodded lightly, reaching into her bag to pull out a clear plastic case harboring a vanilla cupcake. 

Draco stifled a moan. 

The cupcake was light and airy looking, white frosting swirling at the top, snowflakes sprinkling the whole cake precariously. 

It looked delicious. 

“I made it myself, although the sweet elven creatures that cook for me when I’m feeling down helped with the icing. It’s surprisingly difficult to get it just right.” Luna informed him giddily. 

Draco gently took the cupcake into his hands. 

-On average there is 295 fucking calories in one cupcake, that’s more than you should eat in a week, Draco!-

-Do you want to be fat? No one will talk to you if you eat that cupcake, you fatass-

-Don’t even think about it! You’re stronger than this! Hunger is an illusion! Your body doesn’t need all those calories-

Draco gently cradled the case the cupcake was in, his stomach turning. He felt like clenching his eyes shut and running far away, but knew he couldn’t do that to Luna. 

He knew he’d eat the cupcake, his first one, but he’ll have to make a trip to myrtles bathroom afterwards. 

-People who eat are selfish, starving yourself is an example of extremely high self-control- 

-Come on, you want to be able to walk in the snow without leaving footprints- 

-saying ‘no, thank you’ to food, is saying yes to be being thin, you need to be like a feather- 

Draco shuddered. 

He couldn’t have an attack now, not just when she was being so nice to him. He opened up the box and smiled gently at her. She gave him a pat on the head in response. 

“I made one for me, too. I’m not a completely selfless being. There just so irresistible.” 

Draco watched her open her own box from her bag, and take a big bite of a cupcake practically drowning in sprinkles. Draco nervously, he held the cupcake in his fingers feeling the soft delicacy wrap around his fingers, his heartbeat in his ears, two insecurities warring against each other. 

Draco looked at Luna, lip smeared with sprinkles and giggling cheerfully, and he knew what had one. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he took a small bite of the cupcake. 

Heaven, heaven was in his mouth. 

It was sweet, and light and wonderful. Draco felt guilt for eating it settle in his stomach, but attempted to ignore it as he tried to savor each bite (but it wasn’t worth it, look at how bad it is for you-) and obsessively told himself that he was going to rid himself of the food in the bathroom later, he would be fine, it would be fine, the cupcake wasn’t going to go to his stomach or create extra fat. 

He couldn’t even fucking enjoy the cupcake. 

He gently sat it down, four bites (if they could be considered as such) in, and began gently wrapping it back up and putting it into its case.

Luna gave him a sad look that he didn’t quite understand. 

Then it was gone and her stare was curious. 

“Did you not like it?” she questioned, her eyes flickering from his hands to his face. 

“Oh, no, no, I just already ate today. I’ll eat it later when I’m hungry again, so I can enjoy it, ya know?” Luna nodded in understanding, licking her fingers and scooping up crumbs from her plastic tray, because dammit she already ate her whole cupcake?

A flicker of logic passed his brain that she was plenty thin and pretty, and she ate the whole cupcake and wasn’t going to flush it down a toilet, but he dismissed it.

He needed to lose weight. Even if he didn’t, he did. 

Did that make sense?

“Alrighty then, you ready to try some more spells to fight off those nasty imps? ‘Cause I think I finally found one you might be able to perform.” Draco nodded in relief. 

Draco grinned, false cheer oozing hopefully not to obviously from him. “Yea, but first I really got to go to the bathroom. I drank a lot of tea this morning.”

He missed the resigned look that crossed Luna’s face as he rushed back off to the bathroom.

 

\-------

 

Draco hurried off to myrtles bathroom, wanting to run and collapse in exhaustion at the same time. 

Fuck it, depression and anxiety was the worst combination ever.

Draco was trying not to moan in pain at the bruises he had got from the quiditch field fight, each stride stretching them uncomfortably. 

He didn’t even realize he had run into someone until his arm slammed into the stone wall of Hogwarts’ halls. 

He turned to his side, clutching at his arm as blood scraped down it, taking deep, shaky breaths. 

“I’m so sorry! I should’ve been looking where I was going!” 

“It’s fine, it takes two to- you know what, I don’t know what metaphor I was even planning on using. My brain must have gone fuzzy from blood loss.”

He only then realized his eyes were shut, so he slowly peeled them open his eyes heavy. He was looking up at a small little first year. Ah, fuck it, what if he thought he was being serious about the blood loss thing? He refused to go back to that horrible medical ward ever again. 

Then he recognized the boy’s blue robes, and slumped in relief, he was a Ravenclaw. 

“Oh thank god you’re smart, I realized you were a first year and thought you were going to think I was being serious about the blood loss thing.”

The boy giggled. “Everyone keeps saying you’re really mean, bu-but I think you look like a teddy bear.” Draco melted. 

“Oh my merlin, are you up for adoption?” he gently took the bending over boys outstretched hand, making sure not to lean to much weight on him. This made the boy erupt into further giggles. 

“About as much as you are.” He responded, grinning brilliantly at him. Draco laughed at him, clutching a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound, because his mother- 

Fuck. 

Myrtles bathroom. 

His anxiety came back. 

“uh, yea, sorry about running into you, kid. I-I gotta go, places to be and people to see, yea?” the boy looked at him in horror. 

“Shi-...” he seemed to realize he wasn’t quite alone, “-tsu! I was running for a reason! I have potions with Snape!” Draco gave him a mock scandalized look.

“You better hurry unless you want to be spending your weekend cleaning guts out of potion viles!” he waved his hand in worry. The boy picked up his bag in a rush. 

“Gah! SORRY! Got to go!” he began scurrying down the hall, but paused at the corner. 

“I’m Peter by the way!”

And then he was gone. 

And with his disappearance, the bolts of anxiety and waves of depression came back ten-fold. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he burst his way through myrtles bathroom, slugging his bag to the side and rushing into a stall. 

He whimpered in both disgust and anticipation as his fingers slid down his throat and jutted down, a wave of nausea spilling into his stomach at the same time. 

It wasn’t bile for at least three goes, causing displeasure to settle in his stomach. That signified he had consumed far too much. 

-it should’ve only been bile, you worthless piece of- 

Before his thoughts could fully form, he had plunged his fingers to down again, accidentally scraping the back of his throat in his haste. 

Blood pooled in his mouth, the feint taste of iron and bad breath combining in a way that made him want to puke without the aid of his fingers.

He shivered, pulling himself up off of his knees, turning to wave at myrtle. The ghost shook her head giving him a resigned look. 

“Hello, Draco. I wish you’d let me help you.” Draco took a deep breath, smiled at her, then began the ritual he did every time he had an episode. 

First his knuckles were healed, then a spell to rid him of his halitosis, finally, a healing spell on the gland at the back of his throat to prevent swelling. 

He then remembered the object of his problems sitting in his pocket. 

He pulled out the delicious sweet, but could only glare in triumph as he flushed it down the toilet, myrtle huffing indignantly about having just gotten out the soap someone had shoved down it before.

Something between satisfaction and longing filled him as the toilet clogged from having food shoved down it. 

It’s not like anyone fixed this bathroom’s flooding problems anyway, it would take too much time, way too much money, and involve hiring an exorcist to off a certain ghost. And he had a feeling myrtle wouldn’t be willing to leave Hogwarts. 

He walked out of the bathroom with a headache and cramps, yet knew he was ready to start his day. 

It was rare he had to purge two days in a row, he knew that wasn’t a good sign, that he was probably relying on the coping method more strongly now, but dismissed it as the stress from this weekend and having to keep up his mask of a cheerful boy. 

He made his way back into the library feeling significantly better. 

Luna waved at him excitedly and he forced a grin. 

“Dragon! I really do think you’ll be able to perform this one, give it go!”

Draco walked behind her, leaning over her shoulder awkwardly to see the page she was examining. He glared at her giggling form. 

There wasn’t a spell on here! She’s trying to tell him he can’t even perform warding spells? That’s shit!

“Ah, fuck you.” 

Her eyes went wide, and then she burst out into a fit of laughter. 

“I didn’t think you cursed!” she exclaimed, and Draco huffed in annoyance. 

The librarian shushed them promptly.

Luna gave him a grin, “It’s the only thing I could find you might be able to use, just read it.”

Draco sobered, beginning to read what she had found for real. 

‘Commonly, things that attract demonic or mischievous beings are the negativity or dark actions of a human or wizard. Black Magic is the most sure way to attract a being as such. Types of these being are even used to track a city or house that is suspected of crime, to find where the black magic could be spiraling from. If you’re looking to rid yourself or your town of a haunting, you must stop or help whatever it is that’s causing the negative spiral. Often times, there is more than one person creating the darkness or negativity that attracted the being, in an unusual case the people may not even know one another. Here are a couple of reasons you could be being haunted-‘

Draco looked down, skipping over the singular hauntings and going straight to the entire town hauntings. 

‘The main reasons why a town would be haunted are slightly extreme.

Murder/Suicide: any form of violent death that has occurred in a particular place will generate enough negative energy to possibly attract negative beings.

Black Magic: any place that has been used in black magic rituals of any kind is an open door for negative beings to come through and potentially linger. If a group of people participated in these rituals, it is even more of a magnet for demonic entities.

Multiple Deaths: any place that has seen multiple deaths can attract demonic hauntings. Remember, negative entities feed off of negativity.

Recurrent Negativity: any place where negative people dwell, if the negativity is strong enough and lasts long enough, can generate enough frustrated excess magic to draw the attention of negative entities, or entities that are trying to rid the world of such magic.’ 

Draco turned to Luna. “Well, this isn’t exactly a defense, but it’s a start. If I can find what’s attracting the imps, maybe I can stop the imps angered attacks. I guess I didn’t think about that maybe the imps are targeting places because they were apart of something bad. This could be my upper hand!”

Luna beamed at him. “See? And you don’t have to cast any spells.” She grinned. Draco smiled softly, “And I don’t have to cast any spells.” He agreed. 

Luna blinked at a watch Draco couldn’t quite follow, seeing as it looked to be in a completely different language then hopped out of her seat. “Well, I think it would be best if you borrow that book. It looks quite helpful, and is strictly against any and all types of harmful or even vaguely considered violent spells. But, now, I have History of Magic, and you have Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors.” 

Draco followed her lead and stood up, resisting the urge to stretch as his mother would kill him for being improper. 

“See you later, Luna,” he smiled. 

“I suppose I will see you when it is next convenient, except this time, you’ll be helping me with my potions essay.” Luna gave him a playful nudge. Draco shied away, but laughed all the same. 

“You bet.”

Yes, Draco felt significantly better.

 

\------

 

Draco was not excited for his first care of magical creatures class with the bumbling half breed giant that was forced to be a servant here at Hogwarts. He, so far, had not been present for the first seven care of magical creature classes, due to trouble with the ministry allowing a giant to have a job at a school, where many children he could potentially harm were residing. 

His first classes had been normal, normal classes, that involved only normal essays and normal activities and normal substitute teachers. 

But the second this fucking bullshit of a teacher comes in we’re supposed to risk our lives?

“What? I am not doing this! Why the fu-fu-ck would we do this?” Draco hears a fellow Slytherin hiss to their friend in fear. 

But nooo, the Gryffindors were excited. 

Well, he was just going to stay far, far away from the beast thing professor slave was about to explain to them. 

“First thing you want to know about Hippogriffs, is that their very proud creatures. Very easily offended, you do not want to insult a hippogriff.” Hagrid explained to them, pacing back and forth in front of the eagle like creature while waving his arms. 

“It may just be the last thing you ever do.”

And there was the deciding factor, he was going to insult the shit out of the bloody chicken. Then he wouldn’t have to commit suicide at all, he just would laugh as it mauled him to-

Breathe. Okay, he was going to get through this. Calm your nerves before you do something you’ll regret, you don’t need to lash out when you’re panicked, it won’t solve anything. 

Deep breaths. 

He wished pansy was here. 

“Who’d like to come and say hello?” the sla- Hagrid turned around toward the creature.

The group simultaneously backed up, including him. 

That is, the group minus potter. He rolled his eyes, it was either his typical idiocy not realizing everyone was backing up, or he just was...well, idiotically brave. 

Jeez Draco! Pull yourself together and stop insulting people in your mind, godammit!

Hagrid turned back around, seeing harry in front of the rest of the kids, he seemed to assume that meant potter had volunteered. “Well done, Harry, well done,” 

This next part had Draco stifling his laughter, because it felt vaguely familiar. He could picture him and Blaise in the same position as Potter and Ron, him slowly scooting back and then having Blaise step up and shove him forward.

Potter looked betrayed.

“Now, you have to let him make the first move. It’s only polite.” Potter slowly inched forward. 

“So, step up, give him a nice bow, then you wait to see if he bows back. And if he does, you can go and touch him. If not...well we’ll get to that later,” 

Draco shivered, sobering up as he turned around and began hiding in the crowd. He decidedly could not get injured, as he had much too much to do these coming days. He had to look for the Imp, send a reply to his mother’s letter, he had to do the whole switch thing, and on top of it all, he had to serve detention in the forbidden forest with Potter. 

He clenched his eyes shut, letting his earlier jest about the situation fade into real distaste. 

Potter bowed low on his waist. 

The hippogriff made a squawking noise, advancing slowly toward potter. He raised his wings, tilting his head from side to side as if examining Potter, then increased the volume of his sounds. 

“Back off Harry, back off!” Hagrid warned, making a hurried shooing motion. Potter began to step backwards, but his foot caught on a twig, the branch snapping under his foot. 

The bird snarled.

“Keep. still.”

Potter froze. 

Then the bird did something unexpected, it began bending his bird like leg in what resembled a formal bow. 

Potter had done it. 

Draco slumped in relief, his distaste for the boy not going so far as to wanting him animal food.

Potter hesitated. 

“Well done harry, well done. Well you can go and pet ‘em now! Go on, don’t be shy!” 

Potter took this as his cue to rush over to the bird like a giddy child, which was absolutely adorable. It only increased when potter cooed, began to rub the birds beak softly, as if it was fragile. 

Draco had a feeling if he stepped up it wouldn’t go as smoothly. 

This made a part of him want to try it even more. 

Hagrid and the rest of the class began clapping excitedly. 

“Very good job, ‘arry! Well done! Well done indeed!” Hagrid suddenly grew mischievous. 

He walked up behind harry, giving him a grin. “I’m going to let ya ride ‘em now!” He scooped up potter like he was nothing, despite the boys vehement protests. 

“What?” he looked shocked. 

“HeyHEYEYEYEYEY! Hagrid, put me down! HEY!”

The bird squawked as harry wrapped his arms around the birds neck tightly, Hagrid barely able to give him some last minute advice before the bird had took off, running faster than even a broom. 

Oh god. 

He shied away from the group even further. 

The bird ran over to the forest, picking up his pace until finally leaping into the air.

The bird flew into the sky with a grace that even his mother would acknowledge.

Draco gnawed at his wrist in worry, overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts drifting into his head. 

-Ha! I hope he falls off the bloody bird, the asshole deserves it for everything he’s said to you and for what he did to make your father so mad this year-

\- GOdsPlEAseBE alriggghhhhht!!! I thought I might be able to add you to the small list of people that tolerate me I have!-

-WHY IS THIS EVEN A LESSON? Do we all have to ride it? I don’t want to ride it. I can’t ride it. YOU CANT MAKE ME!-

Draco tried not to sob then and there. Why was today being so hard on him? He thought he had gotten better from earlier, but it seemed to be only temporary. 

‘I guess I have to face it...today is just going to be a bad day.’ 

Draco’s vision blurred with relief and something else as Potter landed safely back on the ground, every limb in-tact. 

He sighed happily, but his anxiety hadn’t dwindled. 

He saw the rest of the class excitedly beginning to move forward, encouraged by Potter’s lack of injury. Draco wasn’t so sure he wanted to get closer. 

The students all bustled around happily, taking turns bowing, sometimes going two people at a time, but he made sure to constantly be at the end of the line. He honestly hadn’t expected anyone to notice his tactics, but Weasley stepped forward, stretching his probably still sore form the fight arms. Madam Pomfrey may be able to heal bruises and bones over night, but she couldn’t stop the pain entirely, it still inched under your skin. 

Weasley nudged him, “Don’t you want to try? He hasn’t done anything harmful, just be nice to him. Its pretty fun, and while Harry and Neville are the only ones who’ve got to ride him, the rest of us were liked well enough to give him a pet.” Draco hummed skeptically, but Weasley continued. “Come on! You’ll never experience anything like this again!” He scooted him forward, placing both hands on his back. 

Draco’s stomach turned in distaste at the unwanted contact, but trudged along as Ron (Was it going to be Ron or Weasley? He’d been switching between the two way too much, it was starting to get confusing.)

The line was coming to an end, soon it would be his turn. 

Ron (Yea, that sounded kind of nice) gave him a thumbs up. 

Draco turned towards the professor, who was smiling happily at him. “Well, give it go. Buckbeak is rather docile for his species. As long as you watch your tongue, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

No injuries. You have way too much to worry about right now, okay?

Just bow, don’t wound his pride. 

Draco gently began leaning over into a bow, waist length, both hands behind his back. 

The bird roared in anger, and Draco flinched. 

“That’s not good, don’t move, Malfoy, just stay calm. Alright?”

His breath picked up and his toes curled. How was he supposed to stay calm. This was stupid, he shouldn’t have done it. 

The bird growled, slowly stalking towards him with its wings in the air. Draco flinched, stepping back, instincts of fear drilled into his head by his father kicking in.

“Malfoy! Stay still! You’re upsetting ‘em.”

Draco froze as if hit with the petrified curse, his eyes zeroing in on the grass, his breath hitching. 

He dug his nails into his thighs. 

The birds warm breath tickled his ear, the growling had stopped, and a heavy silence had descended upon the group. 

Draco heard the birds wings raise in the air, but he forced himself to stay calm, listening to his teacher and hoping he knew what he was doing. 

He couldn’t hold his breath any longer, and let out a huff of air shakily, his eyes flickering to meet the birds. 

“Hi, sorry if I frightened you. I just wanted to see if I could have a pet at your beak or...maybe your feathers too.”

The hippogriff nodded his head pompously, clearing already knowing that fact. He could practically hear the bird saying, ‘I already know that, underling.’ 

Draco chuckled a lowly, gently testing his boundaries by beginning to straighten up. The bird squawked, and he lowered himself back into a bow swiftly. 

The bird reeled up to its full height, legs swinging in the air, demonstrating its superiority. 

Draco flinched. 

“Your attitude is almost as bad as my fathers.”

The bird seemed to squawk indignantly at that, circling him slowly. 

Draco felt his shoulders hunch over in fear. 

“Sorry, insulting you wasn’t my intention.” The bird leaned down inches form his face, eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. 

Draco let a slow breath out. 

“You’re quite elegant, my mother would enjoy you.” Buckbeak preened. 

It seemed to have decided its opinion of Draco, leaning down and nudging his beak against his face with a sound that resembled a purr. 

Draco giggled, cooing at him. 

The bird’s soft fur around his face brushed against him, tickling his nose. Draco sneezed. 

Draco began to straighten, but was stopped by a student’s voice. “Ha! Never thought I’d see the day Malfoy shoved his pride up his ass and realized he wasn’t so great. What’s the matter? Scared of a bird? All the rest of us earned his respect and you can only get him to glare. Nice going Malfoy.”

Draco stumbled, losing his footing. 

-worthless, that potter boy can do it how hard is it for you to just perform the spell?-

-You can’t possibly be my son, you’re too weak.-

-Is that fear? Are you afraid of me Draco? Malfoy’s aren’t afraid of anything-

He tried to correct his mistake, but it was too late. It happened in a flash of steely talons, pain digging through his arm and claws leaving a large gash. 

Draco cried out, feeling blood slide both up and down his right arm. 

The next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as the bird strained to get him, hunched over the grass and gasping in pain. 

“Someone help me- gotta get ‘em outta here-!” Hagrid called to the class, face ghost white. 

Granger rushed up, hooking her arms under his and leading him to the gate

More pain shot up his arm, bringing his focus away from the struggling Hippogriff. 

He heard granger gasp, “Oh, jeez, that’s bad! Are you quite alright?” Draco coughed, focusing on the sensation of breathing to distract himself from the pain. 

“Oh god, I’ll take that as a no. We’ve got to get you to the hospital wing.”

Hagird walked briskly towards them, scooping him up in his arms. 

“Hey! I can walk on my own...” he slurred, the blood loss kicking in. 

“This’ll be faster, don’t protest, we’ve got to get you to poppy, she’ll have just the thing.”

Shakily and hesitantly, the care of magical creatures class followed at a walk, Draco could hear his fellow Slytherins shouting at their professor in horror. 

“They should sack him straight away!” called Theo, who looked mortified at the blood dripping on his arm. 

Draco normally would have tried to comfort him, knowing Theo hated violence like he hated The Ministry, but felt to dizzy and embarrassed to try. 

“It was Malfoy’s fault!” snapped a Gryffindor on the side. 

He watched in amusement as Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly. 

Those two, Draco thought fondly. 

“It was Malfoy’s fault you blood-traitors insulted him? Or that that horrible beast attacked him? How does that even fit together in you stupid brainless head?!” 

Draco couldn’t quite tell who shrieked that one. 

Then he couldn’t hear them anymore because Hagrid had taken them to far away. 

He could only barely register the right amount of panic at being taken to a hospital. 

 

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading !Comments appreciated and kudos loved! Criticism welcome. 
> 
> (By the way, wherever LadyYang is out there, your comment was very much appreciated, I was just a bit overwhelmed with all the info! I cant even begin to think of how to respond to all your praise! I'm very glad you've been enjoying this story so far!)
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	4. Go away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, afternoon, or evening, CalypsoHedi here. I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "My feelings? Oh, don't worry about those, no one else does."

Draco suppressed a giggle as he walked stiffly next to his mother, on his way to one of his best friends, Blaise’s, birthday party. He felt his mother tug slightly on his wrist, signifying him turning on his heel to the right. 

His friend’s house was homey, a wide open floor plan, with couches pushed to the right side in a circle and a play area on the other. A small magical gate guarded the play area so none of his friends many toys would be thrown across the room and get everything messy, and if it was thrown, would be gently cushioned and float safely back to the ground. 

In an opened doorway with sliding doors he could see stacked candies and cakes, waiting to be devoured by the Zabini heir. 

Draco looked up at his mother, waiting politely for her to stop chatting with Blaise’s mom and some guy (he wasn’t sure what the man’s name that was substituting as Blaise’s father this time).

“Can I go wish Blaise a happy birthday, mother?” she leaned down, patting his cheek, 

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” he nodded his head then ran over to the play area, where his two best friends were arguing heatedly. 

“I’m older than you!”

“I just turned six so now we’re the same age!”

“But I turned six last month!”

“So?”

“SO my birthday’s before yours!”

Draco crossed his arms, “Well, I’m younger than both of you in body, but surely wiser than the two of you put together in mind.”

Pansy glared at him, “Well, hello to you to Draco. But, I’m still older than BLAISE!” she ended up shouting that at him, causing her mother to startle choking worriedly on her tea. 

Seeing everything was fine, she sighed in relief, placing a hand to her heart. 

Draco thought his mom would be a lot madder at him if he randomly screamed for no reason. 

Draco shuffled shyly. “Does it really matter?”

Pansy latched onto his back, her fingers hooking around his neck, “O course it does, my adorably dumb bestie!”

A collected of aw resounded from where the adults were sitting, Pansy grinned, soaking up the attention. 

Draco however, shied away. 

Blaise tugged on his arm, “C’mon Dray! We have a whole room full of deserts and momma said we could eat ‘em whenever we wanted!”

Draco glanced at his mother, who was now cooing at Pansy as she sung the Hogwarts houses traits in an old tune. 

Draco turned to Blaise, nodding. 

Upon entering the kitchen, Draco was overwhelmed by the amount of food placed on the candy themed tables cloths. 

Cakes and cookies and muffins and cupcakes and candy and, Merlin so much more.

Ms. Zabini picked them up, placing them on the table. “And what do my two sweethearts want this fine afternoon?”

Draco giggled as she patted his hair, leaning into her warm gloved hand happily. 

“I want a muffin! The banana ones!” Blaise said eagerly, beaming when his mother picked one up off of the platter and sat it down on a fancy blue paper plate. 

“And you, Young Malfoy?” 

Draco’s eyes widened and he shook his head no, “Can I have an apple instead?”

“An apple? Why the responsibility on this young man, I think I can do that, right, Blaise?”

She said, giving Blaise a secretive glance. 

“I think I can give him some apple pie!” she cheered, picking up a thin slice and scooping it onto the plate. 

“I wanted an apple!”

“This has apples in it!”

Draco glared stubbornly at the Zabini matriarch, who shoveled some of the crumbly gram crackers with warm apples onto a fork, holding it at his mouth. 

“Say ahhh!!!”

“Blehhhhhh,” he deadpanned, but obediently opened wide. 

It tasted of cinnamon and curiously, warmth, mushy and chewy at the same time. Crumbles slipped out of his mouth, and Ms. Zabini scooped it up with a folded napkin, beaming at him. 

He moaned. 

“See, it’s not so bleh anymore, is it?”

“Mmmhm,” he said instead, opening wide for another bite. 

Ms. Zabini gladly complied, leaning over the counter to give him another bite. 

Blaise pouted, clearly jealous, and crossed his arms.

“Are you gonna feed me my muffin?” Ms. Zabini smiled widely, 

“We’ll just have to take turns.”

“Well, Draco’s already gone twice,”

“So wise, so true, I’ll have to give you a bite equivalent of two, wait here just a minute.”

She scurried off to the fridge, getting out a can that looked like it sprayed something. She popped the lid off and picked up the banana muffin, unwrapping it skillfully with one hand. 

She took a bite off with a fork, then pressed the button at the top, causing white fluff to smother the whole fork. 

She held it out for him, 

“AHHHH!” he shouted, his voice now muffled by the cream in his mouth. Blaise giggled around his bite. 

He licked his lips of the last of the white cream, “Mmmmm, YUMMY, can Draco go twice again?”

Ms. Zabini laughed merrily, “I think that can be arranged.”

Draco waited patiently for his bites, happy with the new flavors entering his mouth. An odd buzz entered his limbs, giving him a bout of new energy and a full stomach he hadn’t had in while. 

He had ate the whole piece of pie in minutes, Blaise having gone through a muffin and a cookie, which his mother had generously covered in what he learned was called whipped cream. 

Ms. Zabini poured them both a milk, sending them back off into the play area, with the warnings not to spill it. 

Draco walked in to see Pansy in full blown story mode, waving her arms and explaining the ‘werewolf incident’, which was actually a really bad thing, but seemed to make the young girl ecstatic. 

He took a sip of the milk, feeling his throat tighten awkwardly. 

He tried to take another drink, and managed to swallow some before taking a deep breath through his nose, not being able to take another. 

His mother looked at his glass of milk with a frown, “Gratia,” She addressed Ms. Zabini by her first name, “I do hope you didn’t give my darling a glass of milk? He’s terribly allergic.” His mother had begun to stand, her back straight.

Ms. Zabini flushed, panic written on her features, “Oh, no, I didn’t know. Does he have any other allergies or intolerances I should be aware of?” she squeaked. 

“Why? I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I gave him apple pie.” His mother took a sharp breath, hurrying over to him as she caught him as he fell, the glass shattering underneath his fingers. 

That’s when his mother noticed the milk was half gone. 

He couldn’t breath, his throat was closing. He tried to take a breath but it felt like something was in his throat, stopping him. 

“We’ll talk about the pie later, young man.” She hissed into his ear, getting her wand out of her pocket. 

“Oh dear, he’s already drank it, I’ll have to bring him home, he’s not breathing. We’ll come right over once I have my magic-medi-kit so I can make sure his throat doesn’t close, its already swelling.”

She apparated them out of the house without her affirmation dragging him into the bathroom whilst calling a house-elfs name. 

“I need the emergency medical kit, now! I don’t care which one of you fools bring it to me!”

He felt his cheeks swell up, his face clenching closed. He tried to claw at it, but his mother pinned his hands to his sides. 

A numb feeling of pain entered his arm, and then he was gasping for breath. 

An injection potion had been stabbed in his shoulder, completely clearing him of the allergic reaction. 

“We’re not quite done here.”

Draco shuddered, taking gasping breaths of air, having not quite recovered from the allergic reaction. 

She dragged him up onto his knees by his hair, shoving him towards the edge of the toilet seat.

Draco cried out at his mother tugged harshly at his arm, forcing him sharply to his knees. 

“Maybe this will help you learn I don’t tolerate cheaters.” She snapped at him, holding her dark wooded wand at the tip of his throat. “Regurgitate!”

Instantly, Draco was retching, spilling the contents of his stomach into the water beneath him. 

 

“You stupid boy! You knew you weren’t allowed to eat that and you intentionally disobeyed me!”

She shook his head harshly, glaring at him as her spell continued to force him to vomit. 

“You will go back to that party, you will not leave me sight, and you will never disobey my rules again, Do. You. Understand?!” she was right next to his ear now, her voice scraping his eardrums painfully. 

“Then we will come back home, you will have glass of water, then you will go to bed! Your father will hear about this! Thirty lashes ought teach you a lesson!”

This made Draco freeze in fear. It was a rare occasion his mother confronted his father’s punishments directly, and it was usually in a distasteful manner. Saying things like ruining skin and stunting growth, but she had never stood against his father’s decisions. 

Right now, in fact, it seemed she was encouraging them. 

Maybe this is what made him cry slowly, tears dripping down the seat, blood from a split lip banging on the edge of the toilet mixing with them. 

Maybe it was the sharp sickness grueling in his stomach.

Or maybe it was the sting of her words, the realization he was nothing more than a body to fill up space, the only thing that mattered about him the fact she birthed him, nothing more than simple need for and heir. 

Perhaps it was the fact he knew he wouldn’t be eating for a long time, that his stomach would be growling the rest of the month in pain. 

He wasn’t sure. 

What he was sure of, however, was that Malfoys never cried.

So how could he be one?

 

\------

 

Draco woke up to a gentle shake from Madam Pomfrey, who was mumbling about nightmares. 

He groaned, feeling a sharp pain in his now bandaged up arm, watching madam pomfrey make some notes on her paper. 

Draco watched as Madam Pomfrey worked impossibly fast on a gash that would’ve normally taken him weeks to heal, unwinding the bandages and easily healing the red and brown peeling scabs that was left on the line of harmed skin. 

“How long have I been out this time?” 

After he had passed out while Hagrid was taking him to the hospital wing in the first place, he had only woken up on small occasions. 

Pansy and Blaise tried to visit him, but were quickly shooed away by a pomfrey mumbling about rest. 

Now it was the Thursday of an incredibly eventful week, and Draco was stressed. 

He wasn’t even sure which thing he was stressed about, but was feeling too lazy to even list the things in his head. 

That’s how many things there were. Ugh. 

After that he hadn’t been able to get to sleep, so pomfrey gave him a draught and a dreamless sleep potion at his request, after having finished his entire transfiguration essay and rough-drafted a letter to his mother in an attempt to quell his anxiety stricken mind.

Madam Pomfrey had said Blaise and Pans had brought it in for him to do, along with his favorite set of socks and gloves, and he loved so much that they knew exactly what he had wanted he almost wanted to cry, because he knew his parents wouldn’t have known to do that for him. 

“You got a solid two hours, so about the time the dose of dreamless sleep potion I gave you would wear off.”

Her nimble fingers glazed across the wound, her wand casting healing spells a mile a minute. 

She gave him a raised eyebrow. “Well, I’d say it’s doing fine, but the hippogriff that reside in Hogwarts are very wild, we don’t give them vaccinations or anything, the grounds are practically a reserve for them.” She said primly, wiping her hands off on a towel. 

“You have a mild infection that will take a bit of a cleansing potion which stings more than getting the cut itself, honestly. I’ll apply it externally, and it should bring down your fever and erase the infection. If you want, I can let some of the students in for moral support?”

Draco winced, 

“I won’t overwhelm you dear, just some of your friends, and of course Rubeus would like to see how your faring. Ever since they’ve been informed they were checking up on you by knocking on my door and calling in, I didn’t know whether to be endeared or annoyed.” Draco smiled in relief at her. 

“I think I’d like that.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded. 

“Very well, Mr. Malfoy,”

No sooner had she said it had Pansy and Blaise ran into the room at top speed, clearly having been eavesdropping, looking over him anxiously. 

“Have you bloody gone mad? People are saying you provoked a hippogriff! And all the Slytheirns are saying the provoked a whole herd! The Ravenclaws in that class are refusing to talk, so we don’t know what really happened! Oh, I knew I shouldn’t of taken Ancient Runes, it messed our whole schedule up! If I was there, I would’ve saved you!” His friend shrieked, horror on her face. 

Pansy clearly still needed the problem to be addressed, even after their short bursts of conversation he had with her yesterday. 

Draco patted her on the face, his hand engulfing her features that were twisting into a deadpan. 

“Well, I think I’ll start with, Hippogriff didn’t like me and I tripped over because of a rude comment from some gryffindork and now I’m here, just finishing up a letter to my mum about what happened. I sent it off along with oblivious, ” 

He was really sick of having to explain this to her. 

Blaise and Pansy were (what is it with her and shooing?) shooed away from him. 

“I said you could come in to see him, not you could come in and harass him!”

Draco heard a snort from across the room, and only then did he realize he wasn’t alone. 

Potter, Granger, and Weasley were all crowding behind Hagrid, shoving him forward pointedly. 

The care of maical creatures looked down, abashed. 

This was new.

“S’rry abou’ ole buckbeak, he can get perty rowdy and I should’n’ve brought ‘em in on me firs class,”

Draco gave him a hard stare. “I think I’m going to give him English lessons after this.”

Hagrid looked scandalized. 

Blaise whacked him on the head. Hard. “Sorry about my idiot friend, his grump levels increase with medication, I’ve seen him scream for a solid three hours about not wanting to go to the hospital wing. His flue went from a mild fever to making him pass out, the stubborn baby.”

“Don’t call me a baby, asshat!”

“Don’t call him an asshat, fuckface!”

“That, my dears, we be 20 MORE points form Slytherin for excessive rude language. I think that makes 75 points in all, for you, Ms. Parkinson.”

“It’s not my fault 99% of the time people deserve to be cursed at.” Pansy sniped. 

Draco groaned at Pansy’s backtalk.

“Now,” Pansy grabbed his ear, “I believe you have an apology to accept.”

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse than a scratched up arm, giving to me by the people in this room. I just wish it hadn’t happened right before I have to pretend I’m coming home from Hogwarts to complete strangers.”

He mumbled, turning his face into the pillow sulkily. 

“Ha, Mrs. Malfoy’s gonna kill you,” Draco looked up at Blaise with a pouty glare. 

Pansy grinned. 

“I can hear her now. ‘HOW DARE you represent our family in such a poor way! I’ve worked day and night to maintain our reputation and this is how you repay me? Dillydallying with mangy beasts? Disgraceful, absolutely disgraceful’...” Pansy turned her voice high pitched and whiny.

Draco shot her a sly thumbs-up. “Spot on.”

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “I still have a potion to apply, Mr. Malfoy,”

Draco groaned, sitting up, “Right, sorry mam,”

He heard curious sounds from across the room. 

Right. I forgot about them. 

“I thought Malfoy was okay! Is he not?” Granger wondered curiously. 

“No, No, he is darling. Just needs a cleansing potion to get rid of that nasty infection.”

She explained, waving a hand as she grabbed pouring a clear blue substance that smelt of chemicals. 

“You might want to grab onto one of your friends, this will hurt.”

She poured it on his arm. 

Ohmyfucking-

He hadn’t thought of his mirror charms, and all the extra cuts and bruises climbing up his arm.

Madam Pomfrey gasped, apologizing quickly. 

This was a cleansing potion, so initially, it cleansed the skin it was poured on, of both magic and wounds and dirt. 

“Dear! You should’ve told me you had more wounds, this stuff kills! Your arm is going to be bright red!”

He looked at it with a wince. 

It hurt like a hell. He wanted to bite down hard on his hand and scream. 

A welt from his father’s cane climbed up the side of his arm, two small puncture wounds from the snake head. 

To top it off, his whole arm was coated in grass blade cuts, leaving the pale skin red and raw. 

“Come to think of it, you didn’t come here after that horrid fight. Someone got you pretty good with a belting spell, I’ll say. Mr. Crabbe had a nasty one just like this, but I wouldn’t think to put this potion on it. Oh dear, I’m sorry.”

He groaned through clenched teeth, watching the skin begin to bubble and reassemble itself. 

Bruises, cuts, welts, they all melded into one, bright red color. 

He searched blindly for pansy’s hand, the girl quickly latching onto his with her delicate fingers.

“Yea, definitely worse than the cut itself,” he mumbled, the ache the potion left in his skin throbbing. 

“You are handling this quite well. I would’ve already been crying my eyes out, but I’m a bawl baby. At least your arms all healed up now, I suppose.”

Granger cleared her throat, “I have to agree. I used that potion for my scraped knee this summer, bad idea. It ended up with me just lying on the floor and screaming, mum and dad were quite frightened.”

She seemed not to recognize the tension bringing up her parents brought the silver counterparts of her group, but Blaise was on it. 

“Yea, I used to try to steal the old mirrors by mum collected so I could play with them, well one was on a pretty high shelf, shattered all over my leg, she poured it right on there and I wouldn’t stop complaining for hours. But Drakes always been pain tolerant, or at least pain tolerant compared to me!” he chuckled good-naturedly, having mastered the art of idle chatter from his mum ages ago. 

Draco wasn’t pain tolerant, just learned to keep his mouth shut.

“I have a theory that Draco’s just missing the eight percent of the brain dedicated to touch, sense he avoids it so much. Maybe he just can’t feel anything? That would explain why he sometimes swims in the freezing lakes without even shifting his magic!” Pansy joked.

Both Granger and Potter frowned. “‘Without even shifting his magic’?” Potter asked, and Draco tried to focus on the conversation so he wouldn’t focus on the pain of his arm. 

“A wizards magic shifts in position and aura to accommodate to certain situations. Therefore, when he went into the freezing water, it should’ve naturally started to move about, trying to create warmth.” She explained, preening at knowing something that was important. 

Madam Pomfrey popped in, “That’s why the sleeping draught works, dear, it shifts your magic to the state it’s in when you’re sleeping. So naturally your body would think it was sleeping and follow suit,” She then got back to the task of sorting through her healing supplies once more. 

Granger made an interested sound. “I am so checking this out in the library after lunch,”

Weasley clapped his hands. “Speaking of which, I’ve saved you an apple and that horrible green tea you liked from breakfast. I also may or may not have snuck some chicken in their as well, to talk some sense into you.”

There was a disgruntled, “Chicken for breakfast? Bleh,” from Pansy from his right.

Granger groaned loudly, “Is food all you’ve ever think about?”

“Are books all you ever think about?” he mimicked her voice, getting out a small bundle wrapped in napkins. 

He placed it on his bed side, than pulled out the tea bag for his green tea and an apple. 

Suddenly, Hagrid cleared his throat. 

“I know you kids are having a good time an’ all, but I believe we’ve got some stuff to talk about, yer know, the serious kind of stuff.”

Draco hadn’t thought about it before, but there was no doubt his father was pressing charges. 

And Draco could name a million reasons why that wasn’t good. 

Draco felt his whole demeanor change form tired and joking to tired and resigned. 

“I can’t control what my father does, so you should be expecting to have some sort of ministry worker knocking at your door, in, I’d say, three weeks tops. Most likely case scenario, he demands either you being fired or an execution for the hippogriff. I truly hope it’s the latter, for your sake.” 

Draco hadn’t meant to come of cold, but he knew he had from the looks on the rooms faces. 

Granger grabbed a shaken Hagrid by the arm. “I’m going to take him out for some fresh air, Ron, Harry, how about you go down to the great hall without us? After all, Malfoy probably needs his rest.”

Draco couldn’t help but be relieved as his friends took this as their cue to leave as well.

 

\------

 

Hermione made her way to the great hall awkwardly. She had felt incredibly intruding being in Malfoys hospital room, especially after seeing the welts Malfoy had received from his fight. She wondered, for just an instant, if that’d really been where he’d got them.

She had a feeling she should trust in that gut feeling that said it looked suspiciously like a cane.

Or maybe a belt, 

But Madam Pomfrey was the expert. 

(The expert who had no idea Malfoy being abused was even an option to think about)

“Oh! Pansy! In all this chaos I forgot to show you something!”

Zabini was bouncing up and down excitedly. 

After Hermione had helped Hagrid out of the room, she had rushed to catch up with her friends, blatantly surprised that Zabini and Parkinson were walking alongside them. 

Stupid (that was a bit rude, Hermione, she told herself) Malfoy, didn’t he know Hagrid was super sensitive about his ‘pets’? It was pretty obvious. 

“Ok, so you know how I had divination today?” Parkinson nodded, nonplussed by his enthusiasm. 

“Wellll. Granger was reading my tea leaves, and said that for one of my predictions I got? That a friend was in danger, not even three seconds into transfiguration, me and you get a medical owl from the hospital wing with a letter saying Draco had been attacked by a hippogriff! That’s got to mean something!”

Parkinson paused, as did Hermione. “I totally forgot about that. Your right, and it also said...”

Hermione trailed off, her face contorting in horror. 

“It also said a child was being harmed.”

This realization sent a shock threw her spine. Divination had been a load of bullshit when it came out of Trelawney’s mouth, but just because she wasn’t a real seer, didn’t mean there weren’t real seers out there. 

Blaise seemed to freeze in shocked realization. “Oh, no, I take it back, I don’t want a little kid being hurt!”

But Hermione wasn’t really listening. 

The flinching, the fear, the avoiding, the note, the welts...and now a prediction that had partially already come true, 

Hermione wasn’t taking this on half-assed. That’s not how she rolled.

“Wait! That’s not all! I wrote something down as I was reading Grangers, I haven’t looked at it yet, but I saw some weird flashing lights, then this was just in my hand. I think it’s a prediction.”

Zabini pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it, clearing his throat as the group finally stopped and leaned against the walls of the hall. 

Hermione distinctly remembered he had told her that he was writing notes! Little Slythershit...

He was about to read it, but got this odd look on his face at the words on the paper, then passed it to Parkinson with a half-hearted, “You read it, I don’t like reading outloud.”

She thought about his reading disorder sadly. Not being able to read properly? It sounded like a nightmare. 

Parkinson cleared her throat, her eyes scanning the paper. 

“So, we’re supposed to pretend this is in Grangers point of view, then, right? Since you ‘saw’ this when you were reading her fortune or whatever,” Zabini Blaise nodded his confirmation.

“Alright then, let’s get on with it. 

“A series of arcane sightings, pieced together disbelievingly, denouements with the revealing of a facade. Divisive occurrences embitter your judgment, leaving a betrayed soul lost in a house of pain. A man in disguise, a criminal who lies, innocent lives lost can be revised.”

She tilted her head curiously, “Anyone know what it means? Lookin’ at you, Granger,”

Hermione hummed, taking the piece of parchment from Parkinson’s hands.

“Well,” she bit her lip, “I don’t really get the first part, but it sounds like the second part is meaning someone is...uh, I don’t know. I’ve never been good at riddles, I want the knowledge up front, yea?” Parkinson hummed. 

That last part though, reminded her of a little gift she had received from Mcgonagal 

“Alright, you tell me what the words mean, and I’ll figure out what the phrase means,” she said, sidling up next to her Hermione and leaning over her shoulder, earning a snort from Zabini for some reason or another.

“Lets start with the top then-“

Ron shook his head, grabbing Harry’s hand. “We’ll head down to the great hall, ok? You two have it.” 

Zabini looked between the two groups in horror. 

“Well, wait for me! I don’t want to play decode something and have the chance of coming up with a false conclusion!”

Ron yelped, rushing at them. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the group that was clearly eager to leave. 

“Ok, well, how about you think of it like this,” Hermione slid down the wall, taking Parkinson with her. 

Parkinson, the unexpected cuddler, curled right around her with a content sigh.

A series of arcane sightings, pieced together disbelievingly, denouements with the revealing of a façade. 

Ok, so....

Mysterious sightings (meaning things that are not clear), pieced together disbelievingly, so figured out by someone who doesn’t think it was true.

Her vision blurred, lights cornering her eyes, warmth and happiness-

Denouement- 

“Uhhh, Granger, earth to Granger?”

She snapped her head to the side, staring Parkinson. 

“You never told me what the words meant.”

She totally forgot. 

(What had that been just now?)

“Ok, well let’s just do the beginning. So, arcane means mysterious, and denouement means the ending of a story. Do you know what everything else means?”

Parkinson nodded. 

Hermione glared at the paper. Parkinson suddenly clapped her hands, 

“SO! Is it saying, sense this is in your point of view, that you saw something mysterious, figured it out and didn’t-“

Hermione finished for her, having already come to this conclusion before, “-believe the outcome.”

Parkinson beamed, “Exactly!”

Hermione worried her bottom lip, thinking of the time-turner once again. 

It surely wasn’t talking about her thoughts on Malfoys abuse, was it?

That would make the most sense. The mysterious sightings (everything she’s been seeing about Malfoy,) pieced together disbelievingly (the way she initially thought Lucius would never hit his son)-

-denouements with the revealing of a facade. What does that mean? 

“But what does the next part mean?” Parkinson absently began twirling her hair, which was something that surprised her as she imagined most Slytherins didn’t do physical touch. 

(That’s like saying all Gryffindor’s want to jump off the top of the statue of liberty,)

She frowned in annoyance at the paper before her. She hated not being able to figure things out.

“You said denouement means conclusion or ending right? So maybe potter really does die.”

Hermione choked looking at the innocent look on Parkinson’s face in horror. 

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it was really funny,” Hermione huffed. 

“And also doesn’t make sense. It ends with the revealing of a façade. So, someone’s lies being uncovered.”

It ends with the revealing of a façade. 

Innocent lives lost that can be revised. 

“Parkinson you were right, someone’s dying.”

He throat went dry. 

Was Malfoy’s life going to end with her finally figuring out what was happening to him?

But she could save him. 

She didn’t even bother with trying to argue the fact not even a day ago she had convinced herself that all seers were bullshit. 

 

\------

 

Narcissa Malfoy paced around her room in annoyance, her grace falling ever so slightly. 

Not even the scent of her favorite French Yves Saint Laurent Mon Paris Eau de Parfum perfume could clam her aching nerves. 

She looked in the intricate vanity to her right, staring at the immaculate features of her slender face, the small slope of her nose, the long light blonde angelic eyelashes, the clear blue eyes, the perfect long neck-

She stared at it all in disgust. 

She waltzed over to the mirror, picking up the perfectly slit letter from her son in barely concealed frustration. 

‘Dear beloved mother, 

I am dissatisfied to have to inform you that the half-breed professor teaching care of magical creatures let loose a wild hippogriff on the class, resulting in a mild-injury to my arm, perhaps going to sustain a permanent scar. 

School, on the other hand, has been going well, I haven’t got a single decimal off a perfect score as of yet, though I strive to reach further. 

I find myself missing you and father greatly, and I wish it was myself going to stay with ou for the weekend than the filth that must arrive instead. I could use a familiar face with all that’s been going on. 

With all he has, your son, 

Draco Lucius Malfoy’

Her lips pursed at the adorable behavior of her son, some of her anger fading away. 

It came back full force when she glanced at the other letter sitting on the antique piece of furniture. 

She picked up the letter with a sloppily applied seal, willing it away. 

It didn’t work. 

She sighed in frustration. 

She picked up her letter opener, slowly sliding the blade across the corner of the envelope and all the way across. She dipped her thumb under the tip of the letter, and peeled it open, setting down the letter as she pulled out the parchment inside. 

“Dear Lucius and Narcissa (via Black) Malfoy,” she read aloud to herself, 

“Your son’s leaning toward bullying tendencies to the other student’s trouble me. As I have previously informed you, to try to quell this recent problem, I have arranged a plan with Dumbledore to have you and the Weasley’s swap homes so your children can better understand the actions of each other. 

“This may be unpleasant to hear, but it has recently come to my attention that something about your son has seemed quite off lately, and this isn’t just in my perspective. According to-“ Here there was a blotchy black stain where she would bet her hair that used to read ‘Snivelus’. 

“-Severus, and many other teachers as well. For his benefit I request that this project will be taken seriously, and I ask you to treat the Mr. Weasley respectfully,”

She scoffed, closing her eyes briefly before beginning to read over it once again,

“The rules of this experiment are quite simple; all we ask is for the both of you to treat this event like your actual son is coming home from a year at Hogwarts. The rest of the rules will be explained after Saturday has come to an end.

“Lastly, I thank you for your patience, and request the Malfoy family’s presence this Sunday at twelve o’ clock at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and we’ll meet up in the lobby, 

“Professor Remus Lupin,”

Narcissa was mad all over again. 

That stupid boy never does anything right! How hard is it to keep up pretenses without attracting attention? 

She took a deep breath. She could get through this. She could. 

She just needed to send a later to her baby and everything would be just fine. 

 

\------

 

Luna Lovegood skipped merrily to the hospital wing, a bundle of something she just knew Draco would love! She fiddled with the ribbon holding together the leaves with a smile. 

This had taken her a long time!

She walked over to Draco’s bedside, seeing him sat down his book with an odd sort of relief on his face. 

“What do you have there?” he asked softly, motioning to the bag. 

She passed it to him triumphantly. 

“Salt wrapped in mint leaves. Perfect for warding off dark beings, or so I’ve read!” She giggled manically. 

He sniffed it cautiously, then looked up at her. She clasped her hands together haughtily.

“I’ve actually been thinking about that. Do you think it could be Sirius Black? The one attracting the dark magic, I mean.”

Draco hummed, “No, that can’t be the letters I’ve been getting form the villagers are claiming these occurrences have been happening since about seven years ago. So it can’t be Black,”

Seven years ago...what happened seven years ago? And why’s it acting up now?

Draco shrugged his shoulders absently, “Thank you for helping me so much. I barely know you and you’re spending your free time helping me with something you don’t even have to do for school!” Draco turned away, looking ashamed. 

Her anger sparked. No, none of that!

“I enjoy learning new things...I am a Ravenclaw after all. Actually, Peter was telling a funny story in the common rooms yesterday, by the way. He said he’d run into you, quite literally, and thought he was gonner! Than he always tells this part with so much enthusiasm, he says that you joked with him and were quite civil. So, has the big bad Slytherin gone all mushy and soft? Or are you just that way towards us eagles?”

Draco, much to her delight, snorted with happy laughter. 

“He ran into me. I was disoriented!” Luna giggled, but dropped the subject at his pouting face. 

“Anyway, you’ve been here a while, are they going to let you out today? After all, your arms all healed up, shouldn’t you be going out soon?”

Draco stretched yawning, “Actually I was just getting ready to. I’ll bring in all my homework at lunch, I still can’t believe they held me in over-night. They actually didn’t let me get visitors until just about 30 minutes ago, Pansy and Blaise had been over. But I guess it’s cool, because now all I have left for the rest of the day is DADA, which will be all about the Imp mission or whatever.”

Luna sent him a determined stare, “You must figure out what’s causing this ruckus, that’s the only way!”

“The race started just today, it’s going to last for the next couple of months. Apparently, Lupin added in the Gryffindork’s and Ravenclaw’s of third year, and its become this crazy run for a full hundred house points.” Luna groaned. 

“Really? Im not a third year, and I don’t get much gossip, so I had no idea. Which makes your point on it not even being my project kind of pointless, though,”

Draco yawned, picking up his backpack and carefully organizing his books into it, “So, now, everyone is having house meetings and practically the whole school is in on it. Professor Lupin’s turning out to be a pretty big hit.”

Luna rolled her eyes, “Well then I’m thinking me and you should team up and just split the house points,” Draco beamed at her, so Luna held out her hand for fist-bump. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m fist-bumping you.”

“What’s that?”

Luna sighed, “You really need to take muggle studies,” Draco huffed indignantly, 

“My father would beat me black and blue, my corpse, that is, because mother would have already hung me.”

Luna clutched her sides laughing so hard. 

She ended up giving him a full blown lesson on muggles, and having to be shooed out by an irate Pompfrey, who, for once, thought her patient had been in the hospital wing far too long. 

She skipped her way to the Ravenclaw tower with, for her, an uncommon smile on her face. 

 

\------

 

Ron stifled a groan of annoyance as he walked alongside the Slytherin boy. 

Why did he have to come along? Ron had been seeing far too many Slytherin’s as of late. Suddenly, the Zabini boy stopped, giving Goyle at nasty look. 

“Hey! It’s stutter!”

Goyle nudged Crabbe, giving him a smirk, but Zabini cut him off, 

“Hey! It the homophobe! I wasn’t aware we were greeting each other by insults, but, have it your way,”

The two of them took a menacing step forward.

Ron looked in between the two of them in confusion.

Zabini wagged a sly finger. “Ah, ah, ah, none of that, I’m already pissed off at you enough as it is. One more word out of either of you and I’ll slip that Draco should owl his mum, who will owl my mum, who, can you guess? Will owl your parents.” Crabbe tugged on Goyles shirt. 

“Just this once, stutter, don’t think this is over,” Zabini grinned. 

“Far from it, actually,” Zabini muttered as they walked away. 

Harry turned to him, “What was that all about?”

“Things,”

“All things are about things. I’m asking what the things were!”

“None of your business,” He responded, clenching his fist. 

“The Gryffindors weren’t the only ones pissed off at Goyles slur. Nott hasn’t looked at him sense, and Pansy’s been down-right furious. Their only saving grace is that Draco’s remaining neutral, despite Pansy’s pestering. Although Draco always seemed to cave when pushed, so if he found out Goyle knocked me around? Drake would probably change the Slytherin password and not tell them it for the rest of the month.” 

Ron had never considered the possibility the Slytherins were just as pissed off. But why wouldn’t they be? Loom what his comment got their house into! All the points lost and all thoswe detentions! Of course they’d be mad. 

Harry tilted his head to the side, “Why’s Parkinson so mad about it?”

Zabini sighed, “It’s not my place to say.” Harry, never the one to let things go, was about to press him about it, but Ron stopped him. 

“Don’t, mate. We’re not even on first name basis with him. Just, Hermione would want us to be civil.” Ron pleaded with harry through his eyes. 

Harry’s hand slowly lowered.

Zabini cleared his throat, giving them a mischievous grin that was reminiscent of his twin brothers. 

“Anyway, have either of you ever taken a trip down to the hufflpuff table for food? The house elves pamper the badgers.”

Ron still remembered the conversation distinctly. 

He wondered why he had never tried this before. 

Now, he sat at the hufflepuff table with Harry and a Slytherin he just met, serving himself the best chicken legs he’d ever tried. 

It was fried, and buttery, and crunched when he took a bite. 

Zabini was giving him a triumphant look. 

A random hufflepuff growled at him. “Oh, so now you’ve brought friends.”

Ron turned to Zabini, watching him grin, “Nah, I’ve brought acquaintances.” Ron snorted through his spoonful of garlic mash-potatoes, using the gravy placed in a small silver boat to drown his next bite in as he swallowed. 

“Is that Harry Potter?”

“Who’s Harry Potter?”

One of the first years asked the seventh year in confusion. Ron saw Blaise’s lip curl, and he momentarily had forgotten this boy still was pro-pureblood supremacy. 

Hermione saved them all of confronting that issue. 

She was rushing into the hall, looking triumphant and flustered all at the same time. 

“Uh oh...” he heard Zabini mutter, looking at Parkinson suspiciously. 

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, despite Draco’s wishes he had talked about during yesterday’s transfiguration, yesterday’s potions, and that one time when we caught him-“ she wiggled her eyebrows, “with Lovegood...I cracked.”

Zabini rubbed his head tiredly. 

“You cracked?”

“I cracked.” She repeated. 

“Well, better we both do it then one. Granger, pass the badge over. I’m joining the dark side,”

Granger beamed, then paused in her descent to hand him whatever was in her hand, “Dark side?”

Zabini hummed. “Ah, thank you for correcting me. Light side,”

Then she handed him the pin, Ron looked closely at it in an attempt to see what it was and choked. 

Spew. It was a spew badge. 

-It’s S.P.E.W Ronald!-

“Wait...Pans? Does yours have a kitten on it?”

Parkinson grinned. “That was one of my conditions.”

His suspicious look returned, “What was the other?”

“That’s between us girls.” 

That didn’t sound good. It was Lunch! He just wanted to enjoy his hufflepuff chicken without being disturbed.

Funny, he’d always thought of hufflepuffs as vegetarians. Guess he was wrong. 

“Why is it bad you joined Hermione’s club?” Harry questioned, tilting his head in a puppy like fashion.

“Drakey said he’d go all bdsm on me in the bedroom.”

“He’s gonna do the whole sadist thing with Pansy, ya know?”

The said it at the same time and it caused startled gasps to descend across the table as Parkinson casually sat down and Zabini continued eating as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. 

They both suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Nonono! We were just kidding! We usually make those jokes to other Slytherins. Draco’s not the violent type, avoids it like the plague, constantly looking horrified when others get hurt. It’s quite funny, because he’s almost harmed twenty four seven from something or another, either the Gryffindors did it, or he did it because the boy’s a clutz if anything. But no, when I get in a fight at the quiditch pitch he has to stake out all day in the hospital wing without food or water. Hypocrite, he is.” Zabini rolls his eyes in something between agitation and fondness, but Ron doesn’t think it’s all too laughable.

Because isn’t that convenient? Ron had never felt surer of something in his life, the twisting in his gut demanding he accept the truth. 

Hermione put a hand to her heart, “Well I was going to say- Why would you ever joke about something so god-awful?”

Parkinson giggling simpering sadistically, “Draco just hates it when I joke about the-“

She leans in with a stage whisper, 

“-loss of virginity department. His mum’s super strict on the whole, ‘Must not have sex till married!’ pureblooded law. Downright awful, if you ask me. I don’t want to be that one virgin in the room when I’m older!”

Ron coughed pointedly, “Are all Slytherin’s this inappropriate?”

“Nope, just me and my darling here,”

He couldn’t find the right words to respond to everything that had just happened, because a bunch of Hufflepuffs were raising their hands at Hermione, and the groups small conversation was distracted towards the requests spewing form their mouths, 

“Could I have Spew badge to?”

“The Society for The Promotion of Elfish Welfare; sounds like just the kind of thing we need to be supporting!” the prefect clapped his hands excitedly, as many of the other badgers began mumbling about watching one of the house elves’ hands bleed while they mindlessly scrubbed the dishes. 

He had never thought of the support they could gain form the Hufflepuff table. 

With their talking came the arrival of none other than a curious Luna Lovegood, looking like she’d just discovered a new species of goblins. 

“Oooh! I want one too! Both Drake and Ginn’ were telling me about this- club-!” her hair slid into her eyes as she talked, ending her exclamation oddly as she began blowing madly to try to rid herself of her blonde locks. 

Luna knew Malfoy? Why? How? When?

Hermione turned thoughtful. “Well, you know, the badge can have any design on it as long as it supports S.P.E.W, you should spread the word to some of your Ravenclaw housemates, I’ve heard Cho Changs got a sense for fashion.”

Hermione didn’t question where she’d apparently heard it from too caught up in the excitement someone was interested in her ideas.

Luna clapped her hands giddily, signing her name on the clipboard Hermione materialized out of her ten ton bag. She signed her name and beamed. 

“Oh yes! I’ll just bring over some of your badges and a clipboard and have them sign right up! I’ll tell them they’ll have to bring the badges to you if they want them to be customized like Pansy’s!”

She made to turn around, but paused mid-way, “Oh, and when you have time? I’d like to have a pair of sneakers on mine it’ll remind me to look for them!”

Only then did Ron realize the odd girl was currently shoe-less. 

She hurried off to her table, earning a couple of rude mutterings on her way there. 

Poor Luna, she was actually quite entertaining to be around, he supposed she just wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. 

Another Hufflepuff raised their hand, and Ron gently nudged Harry, “Hey, mate, it sure looks like the Hufflepuff’s are distracted. Help me stash away some of this food.”

He got a resigned sigh in return. 

Blaise peered over at him, “I heard stashing hufflpuff and food in the same sentence. What’s the plan?”

Ron rubbed his hand together. 

“First, we’ll need one of those neat bottomless bags ‘Mione carries around. Then, we can start talking.”

 

\------

 

 

 

Draco decided today would be as good as any day to start his new journal entry, so he holed himself up in his room, yawned like crazy, and fiddled with his quill, hoping the right words to put down would come to him. 

Despite it being a book for inner thoughts, Draco still had a hard time wondering what to right. It was a rare occasion his thoughts agreed, so he feared it would almost become illegible to understand should he put down exactly what he was thinking all the time. Journaling was supposed to be a time of complete inclination, free will to think or write whatever pleased you, and this was of course why a journals word was all supposed to be completely true. 

It was always for him, like everything else in his life, oddly stressful. 

Because a part of him wanted to write the journal so people would find it and help him, another wanted to throw the book across the room and curl up in a ball and just do nothing, while there was one side of him that just thought maybe if he vented his real feelings out onto the page and hid it from the rest of the world forever, he wouldn’t have to go through the stress that would come should someone stumble across it. 

One part of him wanted to vent about never being good enough, another about how horrible this week has turned and how unfair (yet fair, because he deserved so much worse) his life was.

Stressful,

And he couldn’t label each part and make a separate book for them, because it’s not like he had a multiple personality disorder, they were all still the same person, just the same person who wasn’t sure what to feel. 

He felt depressed, like he wanted to die. 

But was he just overreacting on his feelings?

He felt anxious like he’d never amount to anything if he didn’t start working right this instant. 

Yet all he wanted to do was sleep. 

He wanted to lose weight, just a couple more pounds. 

Yet wouldn’t it be so nice to eat whatever he wanted?

He thought about cutting every day. 

But those were just thoughts. 

He wanted friends. 

But he wanted to be alone. 

He felt completely overwhelmed by his emotions. 

Yet almost deathly numb. 

Draco set his quill down leaning his face into his hands. 

It was the want to be stronger and thinner

But not having the energy to get up out of his chair. 

It was feeling fatigued constantly, 

He all he wanted to do was run as fast as he could and never stop. 

It was depression and anxiety, warring against each other inside of your own head. 

And suddenly he knew what to write, how to divide his thoughts perfectly. 

On the first page of his journal, Draco wrote the word anxiety, and put the date. Then he went to the page next to it and wrote the word depression, with the date. 

‘Anxiety, 

I want to be friends with the golden trio-‘

Then, on the page with the word depression on it he finished his thought,

‘But I know I’m not good enough, and-‘

Back to anxiety again, 

‘I don’t know what to say-‘

Depression,

‘Pansy and Blaise are probably going to leave me soon anyway-‘

He continued writing this way. 

‘I should do more stuff for them so they stay-‘

‘But I don’t have the energy to move my legs, let alone-‘

‘Carry out an actual conversation? The fuck? I haven’t even wrote a script for it yet-‘

‘Because you know without planning everything you say, your either going to be hurtful or-‘

‘Going to be made fun of-‘

‘I got an A in arithmancy, now I have to get O’s the rest of the week-‘

‘But my eyes hurt and I’m tired, can’t I just rest-‘

‘All I ever do is rest-‘

He wrote till his wrist was cramped with exhaustion, six pages of the book completely filled out. A sense of euphoria washed over him as he checked he pages, all neatly written. He slid closed the book, fiddling with the sides of the pages that lay a small magical key hole shaped cut out in the stack of paper. He easily used his magical signature to lock the book, grinning in disheveled satisfaction as the pages melded themselves into a smooth blockade, strong as steel, as he attempted to open the book, and found that he could not. 

Perfect (or was it?). 

He placed the book back into its drawer, happy that he had found something of vague importance to accomplish. 

He stood up with a yawn, startled when he found that, to his horror, it was Thursday. 

In just a few hours it would be Friday. 

Fuck. 

That makes 27 hours till he had to go to the Weasley clan’s house and be tormented by their goody-goody happiness. 

He wasn’t sure if he could handle this news. 

Taking a deep breath, Draco realized he had a solid hour left of the time allowed for dinner, seeing as it was eight o’ clock and the greathall’s doors closed at nine. 

He shuffled sleepily downstairs, not bothering with packing his bag and ignoring the voice in his head that demanded he fix his hair and change his clothes. 

Fatigue, laziness, they practically were the same thing. Draco consistently referred to himself as lazy to his friends, to the point where they just groaned and got up for him instead of demanding he do it himself like they used to. 

He sure was being rather complainy this evening. 

He made is way down the hall to the large grandiose doors, walking in silence while searching with his eyes for his two favorite people, only to nearly trip over himself in shock at what he saw. 

Of course the mother fuckers would cave. 

He gave them one job! ‘Blaise, Pansy, do not sign up for it, okay? I know, I know, your parents mistreat them you’re not starting a freedom for all creatures act...yes they deserve some rights...that’s not the point! Mother and father hate me enough as it is for being associated with you!’

They never listen. 

Both were proudly wearing S.P.E.W badges like it was another amazing fashion trend they set up, gossiping excitedly with Astoria and Daphne and urging them to join as well. 

He’d kill ‘em. The lot of ‘em, the Avada Kadavra charm leave not fingerprints. 

Luna was wearing one to. 

So was the Weasley clan, Brown and Jones, Nott, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Fetchly, and, of course, the majority of the Ravenclaws who supported acceptance and freedom and all that stuff his parents tortured people over. 

Granger was looking rather triumphant. 

He was imagining Pansy and Blaise’s funerals now. His speech would be fabulous, not a soul would suspect a thing. 

Son’s of/and bitches. 

He sat down with a raised eyebrow, watching his friends pretend they didn’t know exactly what kind of talk they’d be having. 

Pansy abruptly whined. “Come one Dray! It was too tempting! Granger even made my badge with a kitty on it, a kitty!”

Blaise chuckled. He socked him in the arm. “Hey! It’s funny!”

All of the irritation bubbling from his week rose to the surface, and he sent a glare towards Blaise like no other. 

“Hahah! I’m laughing my ass off,” he spat, glaring at them like never before. “Funny, I can’t believe...howlers! There will be howlers at our table...”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Moms not like that. She may be strict, but she’s no Narcissa, and Blaise’s mom is against the thought of punishing a child through public humiliation, or so she says.”

Draco glared at her, not noticing the ears beginning to listen in. “Not for you! For me! It’s a stretch I hang around you anyway, Blaise!” he snapped, gaze briefly changing form Pansy’s to his. “Let’s not forget Pansy’s trouble in paradise, If my mother knew I willingly hung around you after I found out, she’d disown me from the black family line, and that would royally piss my father off to the point of me being disowned from the Malfoy line to! And uh oh! Now they’re trying again for a more successful child!” he hissed watching Pansy growl. 

“My actions don’t revolve around some misbelief that your parents are planning on disowning you for- for knowing about me and not telling! It’s stupid that you even think that way! And if Blaise is such a burden to your parent’s undying pride to you, then why even hang around him all these years? Oh, wait! I know, because he’s the only person that would tolerate your god awful attitude!”

Draco was suddenly hyperaware of everyone in the room’s eyes boring into him. 

Draco clenched his teeth. “If I’m so awful the only thing you can do is tolerate me, then I’m not quite sure why I’d risk my future to be friends with you two. Perhaps it’s because, unlike you so faithfully believe, I actually have a heart and like your company!” Draco stood up, snarling. 

“I only came down here in the first place ‘cause I knew it would worry you if I hadn’t!” he took a deep breath, speaking quietly now. 

“There are things I can deal with, but being called intolerable by my best friend I’ve known since I was three? That’s. not. One of them,” he moved away from the bench, staring at her tear filled eyes for just a second before huffing, spinning on his heel and heading towards the doors. 

He had called her his best friend. Not girlfriend, betrothed, intended, or ‘our parents introduced us’, 

But it was the truth. She was his best friend, there was no other way to describe it. 

He ignored the growling of his stomach, even if he hadn’t eaten since lunch as he stalked out of the hall, hearing Pansy’s heels clacking against the wood floors as she rushed after him. 

He picked up his pace, but the lack of food was beginning to make him dizzy, he had to lean against the wall to stop himself from falling over. 

He braced himself with his arm, feeling her arms gently loop around his shoulders. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I only said that because I knew it would make you mad! I know weren’t truly angry with me before, but I still got defensive. I- i-“

For the first time in what felt like a long time, he returned her hug, his lip wobbling uncontrollably. 

A small sob wracked his shoulders. 

“I- I, its f-f-f-fi-i-i-ne, Pansy,” he sniffed, burying his face into her shoulder. “You just, you really hit   
h-ho-m-e-m-e.” she gently ruffled his hair, and on instinct he flinched. 

“I’ve had a rough week, life actually.” She laughed tightly, 

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I actually said that.” 

He took another deep breath. “I want to see your badge.” He changed the subject. 

She gently lifted it up, on it was a small kitten spelled to meow and she demonstrated this as she rubbed its ear and it let out what was sure to become an intensely annoying sound.

 

She giggled fondly, then sobered up. “I’ve never seen you cry before, I mean, since we were little.” She said guiltily. 

Trying to comfort her, he responded, “Just because you’ve never seen it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

She pulled the hair out of his face, “I’m here, you know, if you ever want to tell me anything.”

Draco tightened his hold on her shoulders.

“I know.” 

“Ok, ok...you want to get cleaned up and go back? Blaise is probably scared shitless all alone right now.”

Draco pouted at her, “He’s not two,”

She laughed, “Might as well be, though, you missed what he did with Potter and Weasley.”

Draco groaned. “Oh no,”

“I’ll tell you all about, just let me get some mirror charms going while I’m at it.”

Before she could start, Draco grabbed her arm. 

“Pansy?”

“Yeah?”

He took a deep breath. 

“I love you.”

Her breath stuttered. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, I personally found writing this one difficult, especially Narcissa's POV. 
> 
> Tell me what you thought in the comment section!
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	5. I'm just cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "Clever boy, you play with fire because you want to be burned,"

Draco forced himself to remain calm, even with the knowledge that his father was takeing him to his first World cup, in just about three hours. 

He couldn’t have been more excited. He had always loved watching Quiditch, and now he, Mother, and Father were all going out to see it. 

Together. 

Like a real family. 

“Draco stop squirming, I’m trying to apply my lipstick.” 

Draco ducked his head apologetically, watching his mother apply a thin sheen of light pink gloss over her plump lips with a small tube. 

It made them look like candy. 

“I think you look pretty anyway, mummie, without the extra stuff.” His mother patted his cheek, and Draco closed his eyes as he preened into the touch.

His mother pulled up her long dress, showing off her new shoes. 

“How do you like them? I got them at for just 13 galleons. Aren’t they nice, darling?”

Draco examined his mother closely, as she span in a circle for him. 

Her long blonde hair was pinned up in a lacy black bow, contrasting sharply with her otherwise pale being. Her black dress’s collar climbed up her neck, her bust fitted into the dress in a risqué fashion for the event they were attending. It fit her image perfectly, the promiscuous wife of Lucius Malfoy. Her dress’s back was cut out in a small diamond shape displaying a dipping spine, curving around her bottom then flowing out in a trail along the floor. Everything else about her was pale, her white barely-there eyes shadow, along with her feint blush accenting her cheekbones, and the just applied gloss on her lips.

Beautiful, she was. 

Draco clapped his hands. “You look nice, mummie,”

She squealed in response. 

“The same could be said for you, my love. I would give you a kiss but mommy doesn’t want to smear her makeup.”

Draco nodded, understanding her reservations. 

He was in one of his nicer suits, his hair tied up in a loose black band, his face soft and still flawless with his young age. 

And of course, nice black boots that matched his mothers, ‘We’re twins!’ she had told him giddily. 

“You look astounding, Narcissa.”

His mother wheeled around, giving Lucius a rare smile. She swaggered over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She leaned in close to his ear, “I know, Lucius,”

His father chuckled. “Narcissistic? Narcissa? Why, it’s only a couple letters off.”

She slapped him on the hand, “So, what’s with the extra tickets? What does fudge want?”

Lucius frowned. 

It was times like this Draco felt like a real family. 

It seemed so normal. 

Draco could pretend they were like all the other family’s out there, the ones who’s fathers came home every day and complained about work, the ones who’s mother asked them for outfit advice, the nice kind. 

The loving kind, 

“He’ll let me join the board at Hogwarts, on the condition my son attends.”

His mother’s lip curled. 

“What an odd requirement.” She hummed. 

“Indeed. I believe Dumbledore has gotten into his head, whether the man wants to admit it or not.” Narcissa let out a soft groan, her perfect back arching slightly forward in a show of how tired this news made her. 

“I guess he’s not going to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, huh? The one school we wanted to avoid sending him to is the one he’ll be attending. How lovely,”

“Yes, I believe Dumbledore thinks I won’t make a move on Hogwarts if my sons there.”

“The old fool doesn’t know everything, even if he pretends he does.”

Draco lowered his head, knowing he wasn’t worth his father ruining his plans over. 

Then Narcissa took a deep breath, clapping her hands. “Best to not dwell on such things, yes? We should depart now, there’s strict laws on apparating on muggle land you know. We’ll have to take a portkey,”

Draco made a sound of protest in the back of his throat. 

Lucius and Narcissa looked him over in worry. “I know, darling. Mummie doesn’t like Portkeys either, they are so public. But alas, it’s the only way. Do you need a pepper up potion? It helps with the anxiety,”

Lucius smirked cockily. 

Narcissa glanced him over, “Honey?”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll be taking the public portkeys. I pulled a couple of strings and we have a private portkey set up in London streets, disguised a-“

His father paused. 

“-muggle object.”

Narcissa beamed, “You know me so well, did you hear that lovely? No portkeys, for either of us.”

Draco felt himself relax. 

He resisted the urge to sniff in, knowing that was incredibly impolite to do, especially with the fact sniffing was related to-

-Malfoys don’t cry, boy-

That. He shuddered, willing the bad thoughts away. 

“Are we all quite ready?”

And with that, Draco found it in his self-control not to bend over and spit out all (quite small proportioned,) the contents of his stomach, as a spinning overwhelmed his sleep deprived and starved figure. 

They appeared in muggle London, completely unnoticed by any of the unsuspecting people. 

Unsuspecting disgusting people, 

How could he forget?

“Draco,” his mother murmured to him, tugging on his wrist and willing him toward what seemed to be a...box. A box full of letters, he peered inside, careful to keep from touching it, then whispered to his mother. 

“How are the owls s’pposed to get in there, mummie? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Narcissa frowned, “It’s supposed, honey,”

“S’pposed, s-sposed, Sop- Supposes...”

His mother sighed, “We’ll work on it later,”

He frowned. “Not to annoy you, but you forgot to answer my question, mummie,”

His mother eyes flitted toward the box curiously, then nudged his father. 

“Lucius? How are the owls supposed to get to the letters in there?”

His father didn’t even glance their direction. “How am I to know how the weird way muggles transport letters to one another works, Narcissa?” he responded, giving her an eye roll.

Narcissa pouted. 

Lucius checked his watch impatiently, looking around as if expecting something. 

He tilted his head. “Sir, what are we waiting for? Why haven’t we used the portkey?”

His father’s foot began tapping. “Very important people are to be joining us, Draco. Now no more questions.”

Draco nodded mutely. 

Why did everything his father tell him to do have to be so hard?

Everything around him was so odd. 

In about fifteen minutes, (fifteen huffy minutes of his mother complaining about this choclate guy’s punctuality), a man dressed in dark silk maroon robes appeared before them with a slight pop. 

The man shook his father’s hand loftily, causing Draco’s brow to furrow. His fingers were awkwardly laced into his father, and the guy with fudge (He didn’t see any sweets), was awkwardly pulling his sweaty hand away from his father’s, who looked only mildly disgruntled. 

“Mr. Malfoy! This must be your wife-“

His mother took fudges hand in both of hers, cold fingers gently wrapping around his and a charming smile adorning her face, 

“-Narcissa? Ah yes, Narcissa,” he nodded to himself, clearly confirming his mothers name. 

“Wonderful to meet you personally, it’s quite the honor,” the guy grinned, 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he looked her up and down admiringly, causing her to lift a hand to her mouth with a small giggle. 

“And this little fella is Draco,”

Draco remembered what he and his mother had rehearsed. He forced a cheery air around him. 

Draco nodded at him exuberantly. “Hi! I’m Draco! Are you the guy with chocolate?”

He saw his mother blink it what was clearly (Faked, but it didn’t look like it, they’d been over what he was going to say at least twelve times, he just thought he wasn’t going to have to say it in a muggle place) confusion, before making an ‘oh’ with her lips. 

Lucius ran a hand over his face in feigned fatherly exhaustion, “Our fault, our fault...I can definitely see the misconception.”

Fudge frowned. His mother raised a hand with a startle.

“We told him you were fudge, which is...chocolate.” then his mother was pressing her lips together to withhold a giggle. 

“Oh! I see, I see....he talks well for how short he his. How old is he?”

He answered fudge’s question for his parents. “I’m three!” he cheered. 

Fugde looked startled. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Draco! Your quite mature for your age.”

“Numbers do not define my intelligence.”

He saw his father suppress a fake snort. Fudge looked at his parents, amused, and probably thinking he was too stupid to see the looks he was giving them. 

“Nice to meet you too! Although I’m a little d-disappointed you don’t have chocolate.”

This made the man chuckle fondly. 

But he was not happy. He had stumbled over the word ‘disappointed’, and he had known he had said it millions of times before. 

His father’s smile became tighter. “Well, shall we?” fudge questioned, looking between them. 

His father nodded curtly. “Very well,”

 

\------

 

Draco felt hands shaking him awake, before he could get to the bad part of the dream. 

Before the hand shaped bruises littering his arms, had been seen by the small house elf. 

Before the house elf nudged its master, 

Before fudge questioned them, 

Before he lied for the very first time and said it was the mean kids that had been over at his house, 

Before his improvised and mother fake scowled and began mumbling profanities about them under her breath, 

Before his father had activated his first dark curse on him for letting his arms show, 

“Drake! Drake! Today’s the Friday before your big Weasley expedition, so Pan’s and I want to spend time with you cause we can’t on the weekend. And sense you’d never break your perfect attendance record, you have to deal with sneaking out at night with us instead, okay?”

He looked up to see Blaise, drowsy and pulling him out of bed. 

Annoyance burst through him. “Don’t you think it would’ve been nice if you’d consulted me before this?”

He hissed as let himself be tugged out of bed, glaring at him angrily. 

“Oh, boo hoo, you would have never agreed if we had told you. So we’re sneaking you out without your prior knowledge, because yea, we can do that.” Blaise then proceeded to cautiously grab his hand, helping him slide on his shoes. 

He yawned in exhaustion. “Blaise, I need sleep. What do we even need to talk about.”

Blaise looked at him seriously. “It’s...just...Me and Pans found something last year, but haven’t had the time to show you,” He glanced around anxiously. 

“We can’t talk about it here, though.”

Draco nodded numbly, too tired to gather up the will to fight or question his motives. 

He was led away sluggishly by Blaise, his hand gripping Blaise’s tightly, trying to wash away the previous nightmare. 

He closed his eyes, stumbling slightly, and sniffed deeply. He didn’t want to say it, but Blaise had done more then just give him a heart attack when he woke him. 

He could only picture his Mothers dark eyes staring at him lustfully.

He tried to shake it off, but he found it was following him, so he used both hands to grip Blaise’s arm and dizzily made his way out of the Slytherin common room, the stone walls opening up for them. 

Pansy was waiting impatiently by the door. “Come on, we have to see something.”

Draco was slightly frustrated they weren’t telling him what was going on, but felt his eyes beginning to droop and the odd feeling of watching it all happen outside of his body, rather than experiencing it himself. 

He tried to wash away the sleep, but found all he could do was curl into Blaise’s arm anxiously. 

They stumbled across the corridors, mindful of Filch and his cat, until they came to an old, odd looking door that had an old broken into lock on it. 

Pansy clicked it open and crept inside. 

The room was small and circular, with a large chain on the floor in the middle of it. The chains were resting atop of a shabby wooden trap door. Although, it was hard to see with the lighting. 

He sniffed. “Are we allowed in here?”

“Well, I think we are now. Ever since the end of first year Dumbledore stopped saying this corridor was off limits, so...”

Blaise shrugged, “I tried to talk her out of it.”

Blaise was a ‘whatever’ kind of guy. He’d break rules, he’d follow them, he just didn’t have an opinion. Sometimes he would make a big deal out of it, but in the end it always depended on his mood. He was either a goody-tooshoes or was a mischievous they come. 

It was rather confusing. 

“Alright, so it’s just down that trap door. I’ll move the chains, Blaise, try to wake Dray up a bit more.”

Draco moaned his displeasure. 

Blaise slid his wand out of his pocket, tapping his forehead with a mumble of, “Renervate,”

Draco felt a rush of cold slide down his back, chilling his toes and lifting the weight off of his eyelids. 

He yawned. “Thanks, weirdo,” he attempted to be appreciative. 

Blaise rolled his eyes. 

Pansy got the chain off of the door and peeled it up. She grinned, motioning to the hole with her foot. 

“Newbie first!”

Draco panicked. “What, what? I’m not jumping down ther-“

Pansy kicked him in the back. 

Darkness overwhelmed him, then something hard made his knees buckle. It was slightly cushioned, so he assumed some magic was at work, but didn’t know quite what spell it was. He had the sense of mind to move out of the way so the next person that jumped wouldn’t land on his already injured back. 

He squinted to try to see anything, but only felt the odd rubble of wherever they were under his hands, like millions of pieces of rubber probably staining his hands black. 

Blaise and Pansy landed on the ground one after the other, much more graceful then he had been. 

Pansy slid her wand out of her pocket, “Lumos!”

Light blurred his vision. 

He looked around the low much brighter room, and was caught with a sudden realization. 

“My wand! I left it back in my bedroom!” he shouted, waving his hands around. 

Blaise and Pansy shushed him. 

“Your wands useless anyway,” Pansy pointed out. 

He grumbled under his breath. 

“This way,” Pansy pointed, since Blaise couldn’t do directions for shit. 

“How did you guys even find this place anyway, and how did you keep it a secret from me?”

Blaise and Pansy both grinned sheepishly. “We found it last year we were actually searching for the chamber. When knew you wouldn’t approve since your father warned you and all...sooo...it never came up...”

Draco glared at them. “Excuse me? I thought it was no secrets allowed in this trio.”

Both Pansy and Blaise scuffled their feet awkwardly. 

Their footsteps echoes as they walked, the silence in the large secret area uncomfortable and odd warm and cold shivers passing through them not helping. They passed an oddly colored set of floor in a pattern alike a chess board, a very rotten smelling room like iron, a room with three old shattered flasks with very dusty labels, and then finally came into a chipping stairway. 

The floor was scorched, black and burnt up. At the bottom of the staircase in the center of the oddly designed room, was one singular item. A very antique mirror sat there, the only thing in the room still glimmering and glowing, all colors intact and not a speck of dust touching it or the floor around it. The mirror reflected silver light off of Pansy’s lumos eerily. 

Blaise slid his and out of his pocket,. “Incendio!” he pointed the wand at the torches, all of them instantly taking flames and lighting the room, making it much more visible and putting less strain on his eyes. 

That was better, nice one, Blaise.

Draco began jogging down the steps. “So why am I here?” he questioned. Pansy and Blaise shared looks with each other. 

“Just, look in the mirror, would you? It’ll explain why we brought you all the way down here.”

Draco cautiously made his way to the front of the mirror. 

What he saw reflected back at him made him jolt. 

Staring back at him was Lucius and Narcissa, hands firmly on his shoulders and love in both of their eyes. 

He looked around him briefly, before turning back towards the mirror. 

His mother gently kissed him on the cheek, and his father ruffled his hair affectionately, sliding his hand form his shoulder to wrap firmly around his body, pulling him into a side hug. 

Phantom touches wracked his body, along with an overwhelming sense of longing. 

Pansy hummed. “What do you see? I see myself and mum, shopping for wedding dresses with both me and my bride.”

Blaise grinned. “I see my dad, my first one, alive and well with me mum and I, opening Christmas gifts early like we used to, before the fire.”

“I don’t see anything different then the life I have now.” Draco startled himself by the comment, because he knew for sure his mother and father didn’t have those looks in their eyes when they looked at him. 

Pansy tilted her head, “Like how?”

“I see my mum and dad, standing behind me, proud and...”

Blaise and Pansy were waving eagerly in the background, calling him over with brooms in their hands.

It was only then he noticed the scene that had first appeared had changed, as if moving on its own. 

“I see you guys, doing flips and other tricks on you brooms and...

“I see I see mother, cracking jokes with your guy’s mums, happy and totally decked out in makeup...

“Dads having wine at the table with Mr. Parkinson and their both interrogating some young girl about her intentions with Pans...”

He sniffed. 

“I see all of us getting along like normal family’s and...it’s lovely, really. I wish you could see.”

It was funny how all he wanted was for his life to function like others thought it did. 

So funny, Draco began to laugh, slowly but surely the laughter shook his shoulders. 

Pansy finished her decent down the stairs, putting a hand on his shoulder. “That sounds nice.”

Blaise nodded. 

“It is.” he agreed.

Draco slumped to the floor, and Pans and Blaise followed him to the ground. 

“Why did you show me that?” he mumbled hoarsely. 

“It’s called the mirror of erised. We showed you because we realized what we all want most is something we’re never going to have. So I wanted to give you a chance to see it here, if you can’t in real life.”

And maybe they stayed up for hours chatting and discussing about the imp and exactly what Blaise and Pansy needed to do at hogsmede over the weekend while he was away.

And maybe they ended up not having breakfast the next morning in their rush to their stuff to get to class on time from the bottom of some crazy cavern all the way to the Slytherin dungeons, but that was okay. 

Because he got to see a glimpse of the life he had always known would never happen for him, no matter how hard he studied or starved himself, his parents would never be proud of him. 

But pretending they would was the only way Draco kept his sanity. 

He couldn’t pretend any longer, now that he’d seen what real love looks like. 

He was slipping, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. 

Or if he even wanted to. 

 

\------

 

Severus Snape, swept passed the cauldron’s in his class, eyeing them critically and noting that his godson’s potion was going along nicely, if slowly, and that Longbottom was going to need another trip to the hospital wing if he continued stirring as if attempting sonic speed. 

He frowned when his godson almost slipped in five cherry nuts instead of four, watching the boy rub his eyes tiredly. 

Nightmares again, it seemed. Poor boy had been having them since Severus was tutoring him when he was just five. Rather pitiful, but nothing worrying like the Potter boys newfound scar burning. 

He sighed as he remembered Dumbledore wouldn’t let him slip the boy some headache potion, just so he could keep up pretenses as the grumpy prejudiced professor. 

Not that he wasn’t the grumpy prejudiced professor of course, but still, he wasn’t so heartless as to have the boy suffer through dark magic induced head throbbing. 

He noticed his godson rubbing his arm every few minutes inconspicuously, and sighed at the way he was trying to hide the clear pain the oaf’s bird had caused him. 

That boy’s pride. He might as well have fun with it. 

“Weasley, cut Draco’s lionfish for him, his arm is hindering the process.”

One of the braver of his students muttered, “It’s the git’s fault, why should Ron have to do it because Malfoy couldn’t befriend a bird?”

He wheeled on them, “Five points from Gryffindor for challenging my decision,”  
He eyed the boy, “Thomas,” He realized child’s name. 

Weasley grumbled, but not as much as he’d thought he would, before sliding into the seat next to Draco and beginning to slice up his fish into, rather sloppy, but passable pieces for the potion. 

He noticed Draco pout his lip out and mumble something about being capable of handling his own work. 

Tsk, tsk, that would not do. 

“No, Mr. Malfoy,” he used Draco’s last name to show how serious he was, “I do not think you need human skin in the mix of your potion. They’re times to bare pain, and times to. Suck. It. Up, and ask for help. Now no more complaining from you,”

He saw his godson duck his head huffily. Honestly, that boy. 

He waited a few more seconds to see if Draco was going to say anything in retaliation, and when he didn’t, moved onto his next student’s potion. 

Draco and Weasley began conversing quietly. That was new. He’d have to ask him about that in this weekend’s chat over tea-

Oh, right, bloody werewolf couldn’t just let things be, no, no, he has to pry because Draco is a bully but he and James and Serius weren’t-

He shook his head. That was behind him. 

(But was it? I mean his son’s right there, Lupin’s now your colleague, and Serius just escaped form Azkaban, the only one not here is Peter because of said Azkaban escapee.)

He shuddered at his thoughts. 

He decided to take it out on Longbottom. 

“You, yes you the imbecile there, perhaps this is the reason your grandmother thought you a squib, yes? Can’t even brew a simple potion properly?”

What he wasn’t prepared for was the abrupt silence, and then every Gryffindor in the room suppressing their laughter. 

Some not so humble and laughing outright. 

He saw Draco look at Weasley curiously, tilting his head. 

“What was funny about that? That was mean.” He whispered to him, hypocritically saying he was mean for teasing Longbottom. Shall he say (think...) it again?

That boy. 

“It was Nevilles boggart, it turned...into-“he cut himself off with gasping chuckles.

Snape was trying too hard to listen to reprimand his students on their laughter. 

“Snape-“ that’s professor Snape to you, “and he- turned made snape wear his Grandmas clothes. Oh, it just...he looked sooo funny!”

Severus gritted his teeth. “twenty-five points from Gryffindor for influencing my class to disrespect me. And you, Longbottom, I suggest you head down to the hospital wing. The fumes you made from that potion are extremely toxic and I don’t suggest you breathe it without the proper precautions.”

Longbottom fidgeted, standing up and knocking his cauldron over in the process. 

He stumbled and looked up with wide eyes. 

Snape just knew he should’ve used a vanishing charm on it, but those damn Gryffindors distracted him!

He sighed as the purple liquid began turning to smoke that lifted into the air and began covering the room. “Well, I suppose that’s class dismissed. We all must head to the hospital wing and get our vaccinations.”

He didn’t say anything when he saw Draco sneak out with the help of Zabini and Parkinson, clearly influenced by his almighty fear of hospitals. 

Eh, he’d drag him there later. He wasn’t sure if the smoke was toxic anyway, better to be cautious though. 

Didn’t need his job to be taken away like the half-giants was for careless teaching. 

 

\------

 

Harry groaned as Pomfrey checked them all for poisoning, frustrated with both Snape and Neville. 

And maybe he was just a little anxious from figuring out that prophecy to. 

And maybe he was worried because Black was running rampant and trying to murder him.

Add to the table that Malfoy is probably being abused to at least some degree.

The equation isn’t complete without the fact Hagrid could be losing his job. 

Ron was still pissed off about his damn rat. 

Hermione was still pissed off about her fucking cat. 

Plus dementors are crawling everywhere around Hogwarts. 

So he wasn’t having a very good time, alright?

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand several times at the student ahead of him mumbling under her breath about the level of poisoning the student received, then gave them a potion and directed them to the other end of the room. 

He walked up to her with a nod. She didn’t acknowledge him too caught up in her spells and such. 

A tingling sensation buzzed his fingers like static electricity as she began casting diagnostic spells on him.

Once Hermione had explained her theories on the prediction to them for the nth time, Harry let himself accept the fact that he would rather have the scroll mean something about Serius Black rather than something about Malfoy and abuse. 

Malfoy may be an ass, but he couldn’t get the thought of him on his knees with his shaking hands shielding his face out of his head. 

He screwed his nose up in frustration. 

Madam Pomfrey gave him a potion then passed him along the line, with mumbled instructions to take three quarters of the bottle. 

The liquid tasted like limes and soap. It was unpleasant in the way that made you want to taste it again just because you couldn’t quite taste it right the first time around. 

He sighed under his breath as he searched the room for the current person of his thoughts. 

Instead he found Ginny Weasley with a bloody nose looking around the room in amusement. He instantly bee lined toward her. 

“What happened to you?”

He questioned, raising his eyebrow. Ginny groaned in clear frustration, a tissue was pressed sharply to her nose, making it clear to him her treatment had been put on hold because of the entrance of a poisoned Potion classroom. 

“Cho Chang happened to me.”

Cho Chang was the Ravenclaw seeker. Why was she giving a second year a bloody nose?

Ginny snorted. “Don’t worry, she looks worse.”

She jerked her head to the bed next to her, which held a scowling in her sleep Cho Chang on it, with a large black eye, a split lip, and claw and bite marks littering her arms and legs. 

She was out cold. He turned back to Ginny. 

Instead of asking for an explanation, he grinned at her. “I’m impressed.”

Ginny gave him a bloody smile. “I wish the teachers were to.”

Harry snorted, climbing up onto her bed, happy for a distraction. “Want to bitch about it to me?”

Ginny sighed, leaning into his side. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

She cleared her throat, kicking her legs absently, “SO I was just minding my own business, having a nice conversation with Luna, when this squawky bird-“ her voice turned from casual to deadly, “Thought it’d be fun to tell my bestie that she was sorted falsely. Falsely! The nerve of that girl...”

She forced her voice back to its previous nonchalance. “So I told her that if missorting existed, she’d have to go to the Slytherins, where the prejudiced folk are, because Ravenclaws are supposed to be accepting, and she can’t even see past her medicated nose to realize how wonderful Luna is.”

This is where Ginny sighed. “She said I was a Gryffindor so I was too stupid to comprehend how stupid Luna was, and I said that she was only proving my point that she’s prejudice and stereotypical because hello, have you heard of Hermione Granger? And she said that Hermione was a fraud and cheats, and I said that-“

She suddenly stopped kicking her feet, a grin splitting her face. 

“I told her that her boobs were a fraud and only big because she used glamour charms. Then she thought she could get the drop on me and that I would run away if she cast a nose breaking spell, but like she said before ‘ in Gryffindor so I ran, yes, but through her jinx and nailed her right in the face.”

She screwed up her nose. “All her little prissy friends were screaming out as I yanked on her hair and owned that bitch, because I play dirty and used my nails and knees and elbows and teeth all to my advantage, so then-“

She rolled her eyes. “Her prissy tattle tale friends got a professor and told them a biased story which I quickly denied, and told them that an older student attacked me first and I was just using self-defense, and they didn’t know who to believe so now I’m here while Mcgonnagl and Flitwick sort it out.”

She grinned. “Mums gonna be pissed tomorrow, won’t even bother with a howler and just nail me down at the house.” 

Harry laughed. “So what do you think of the whole Malfoy thing? Think it’ll work?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“Uh, I depends. If he’s as respectful to parents as he is with teachers then we might as well welcome him to the family, regardless of Ron’s opinion of him.” Ginny sighed dramatically. 

Ron sulked over to their bed, “What happened to you?”

She waved him off. 

“But if he’s going to be a big prejudiced jerk, be prepared for forced smile frustration mum.”

Ron suddenly made an ‘ohhing’ sound, “Yea, so that’s what you’re talking about. To be honest, I’m more worried about spending the day over at the Malfoy’s. I mean, he already warned me about crazy dark magical artifacts, and if Malfoy’s warning ME about them, then obviously I should be scared.”

Ginny suddenly looked stricken. “What if they plot your murder?”

“Gah! What if they plot my kidnapping?”

“What if they torture you?”

“What if they make me-“

Hermione’s face slowly leaned down towards them. “Eh hem, they are still people you know, horrid ideals or not.”

Ginny and Ron pouted at her. Hermione frowned,

“I heard about Cho Chang, was the violence really necessary?”

Ginny nodded curtly. Hermione huffed. 

“You lost Gryffindor house 45 house points. We’re in third place, now.” This caused Ginny to throw her hands in the air. 

“Yes, but only because of you people! I know harry didn’t have to punch Flint in the face, I know it so don’t pretend!”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, mumbling through gritted teeth about how it hadn’t even remotely been her fault. 

Harry patted Ginny on the arm. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘You good?’

Ginny smile back at him, and squeezed his hand gently. 

“Ronald, I would like to hear about those warnings he gave you, if there really are dark artifacts in Malfoy Manor you can bet Lucius won’t go gloating about it.” Hermione pointed out. 

Ron got out a slip of paper. “I didn’t really look at it, but Malfoy said he couldn’t sleep last night so decided to be productive. Made me a whole list and everything, I find it odd he gave me a list of places safe to go rather than places that are unsafe...”

Hermione groaned. “Must mean there are more dangerous places than safe places, then...that’s never good...”

She unfolded the paper and skimmed it, raising an eyebrow. “This is impressive. He had very neat handwriting to,” Eagerly, Ginny leaned over. 

“Is that Hermione Granger I hear complimenting someone’s penmanship? Oh, this has to be good.”

Ginny blinked. “Yes, very nice. I would have imagined it to be all cursive and swirly though. This is Malfoy we’re talking about. It’s quite exact and down to the point.” 

Harry and Ron both groaned. “No cursive? That’s good, because I hate cursive! It’s so useless and hard to use!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

Ginny frowned. “All his D’s and B’s are switched up. And what’s up with the N’s and U’s? Half are upside down and...half aren’t? I don’t know...”

Hermione frowned. “This isn’t Malfoys writing, it’s Zabini’s, he’s dyslexic.” She realized, smirking triumphantly.

“Zabini’s dyslexic? Really? I had no idea.” He muttered under his breath. 

He thought back to uncle Vernon, and what he would say to that. Probably would never let him back in the house, not wanting to be seen associated with him and all that. 

He couldn’t imagine what the rest of the purebloods were like about it. 

‘Hey it’s stutters!’

Oh. They were poking at his disability. 

That crosses so many lines. 

“How did you acquire this information Hermione?” Ron asked her suspiciously. 

He’s been suspicious of her lately, what with the cat thing and how she is, ‘appearing out of nowhere I tell you!’

“I happened to be his partner in divination class, thank you very much.”

He supposed that would make sense. 

He was kind of paying more attention to the grim prediction rather than their conversation, though. 

The conversation moved forward, Hermione rambling about DADA and the imps. Hogwarts was having trouble financially, apparently, so they left capturing the imps up to them, which sounds just like the rubbish shit Hogwarts would pull. 

Why didn’t they have, 7th years doing it?

Something wasn’t right, clearly, and he had a feeling Dumbledore was up to this. 

He just wished he had more answers and less questions. He felt like ever since he came to Hogwarts all his life has been is solving one big question by answering hundreds of others, and he was getting tired. 

Like, was Voldemort dead for real this time?

His scar buzzed uncomfortably. 

That didn’t feel very positive. 

 

\------

 

Draco winced as his ear was pulled harshly by two pinching fingers. (Stupid Snape, constantly getting in his way) Pansy and Blaise were walking alongside them with sheepish expressions. 

The doors to the hospital wing burst open. 

Ginny Weasley was currently sitting on one of the beds, looking far too cheerful with her black eye and split lip. 

Cho Chang was groggily glaring at her from across the room, getting treated by the medical witch of Hogwarts. 

“Madam, when you are available, it seems my spoilt godson and his rebellious friends slipped out of my classroom for reasons unknown to me.” Sev drawled carelessly flinging him to the side. 

Bastard. 

He sent Sev a death glare, which was promptly ignored.

“Oh I know why he avoids this place. Has right terrors for it, just hides it nicely. Don’t you remember first year and his fever? Stubborn child- makes his friends follow his lead too.”

Draco rubbed his ear in annoyance, heat rushing to his neck from the sharp tugging he received from Snape. 

Weaslette snorted from across the room. “Black mail!” she whooped under her breath. 

The three of them were ushered forward. 

Something unpleasant trailed down his spine. It was cold but felt like it was burning patterns in his back all the same. 

Madam Pomfrey scribbled something down. 

She passed him a potion, which he took with a scrunch of his nose. 

He looked down at his potion (which was sure to be foul tasting), then looked around for a distraction. 

And found it in the youngest Weasley. 

He used his Malfoy swagger to saunter (Yes, saunter) over to her. 

She grinned up at him. “Hello soon to be replacement brother,” she greeted him wittily. 

Oh, he was going to like this. 

“Hello Potters girlfriend, are you doing quite well? You don’t look it, you should really use some glamour.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how. But, since you’re to be my brother, perhaps you shall take it upon yourself to teach me?”

He snorted. “Please, as if Weasley ever had the brains to teach you anything.”

She hummed. “Your right, I’m far too brilliant to be taught anything by such an underling.”

“Agreed,”

“Just so you know Chang looks worse than I do.”

He glanced at the mentioned girl briefly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, still clutching the dreadful potion. 

“Yes, your right, maybe I should teach her some glamour.”

“Please do. The ones on her boobs are far too easy to see through.”

Draco grinned, sitting himself down on a chair beside her bed. She was fun to converse with. 

“So, are you stalling from drinking your potion?”

He pouted. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess that was encouraged by the fact I saw three students gag whilst sipping it.”

He groaned. “Now I really don’t want to drink it.”

“Too bad,”

Draco slid the bottle out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap gently. He sniffed at it, and found he could practically feel the smell burn his throat and churn his stomach.

He took a gulp, wincing as the acid melted into his stomach. 

Disgusting,

“Can your fancy pureblood taste-buds not handle some icky-wicky potion?”

Draco raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“I guarantee half the students that gagged were muggleborn. They typically aren’t used to the horrendous existence of medical potions. They use something else to heal...uh?”

Draco fumbled slightly brow furrowing.

Weaslette mimicked his expression. “Peggs? Pops? Polls? Pigs?...Pills?”

Draco pointed his finger triumphantly at her. “Pills, pills yea, that’s what they’re called.”

Ginny frowned. “I still don’t see how it works. Muggles are so peculiar in that sense.”

He nodded. “Yes, they have practically figured out equivalents of all we can do at this point. It’s almost frightening really.”

Weaslette nodded sagely.

He laughed at her stupid expression, causing her to purse her lips to keep it up. 

“Hold on, hold on! Stop making me laugh!”

She adorned the expression once more, than put a hand to her chin, she began speaking in her impression of an old man’s voice. “I must tell you of a great legend, one that many do not believe. One young Weasley claims to have heard the tale, while some in denial say she lost her head some time before that so I can’t possibly be real. But I, I know the truth, and the truth is yes, Draco Lucius Malfoy on Thursday September 4th, actually did admit he thought muggles were and I quote ‘terrifying,’”

Draco’s face morphed into horror as she began cackling madly. 

He spluttered. “How dare you, Golden girl! I’ll have you know it is rather wise to be aware of their craziness. They keep they’re mail in boxes, I mean, I don’t even understand!”

She looked at him in confusion, sobering up. “Wait they do? But how do the owl’s get to them? Do they make their owls go inside the boxes?” she wheezed another laugh out. 

Draco threw his hands in the air, “You tell me!”

He heard a distinct snort from somewhere in the room. 

Standing behind him, was none other than professor Mcgonnagal, looking oddly pleased. “As much as I enjoy eavesdropping are your two’s conversation, Mr. Malfoy. Ms. Weasley, I did indeed come here for a reason.” She looked at them through her spectacles. 

Draco straightened his back. “Right of course, mam. I apologize, I didn’t mean to disrupt your duties, I have class to get to anyways.”

He began to stand up; feeling stiff at being walked in on, but Mcgonagal stopped him with her hand. 

“I’m afraid you misinterpreted my meaning. I am here to discuss something with you as well, Mr. Malfoy, I was actually going to go looking for you right after I talked with Ms. Weasley, so if you’d please retake your seat it would be much appreciated and save me plenty of time.”

He, in confusion, carefully sat himself back down. 

She gave him an imperious look. “Mr. Malfoy, as I’m you are aware tomorrow your supposed to leave on a train to Hogwarts with the Weasley’s to do an-“

She got a rather disapproving look on her face. 

“-experiment, so it is within your best interest you listen to me carefully.”

Draco glanced at Weaslette, who was staring at Mcgonnagal suspiciously. This sounded like a warning. 

“This is messy ground your two are walking on, if someone even saw you conversing like you were just now, the daily prophet would have a field day. I just wanted to make sure neither of you were getting your hopes up on being allowed to buddy-buddy up, because I’m afraid, unlike my fellow teacher thinks, that the Malfoy and Weasley rivalry is not just going to go away because the heirs want it to.”

Draco felt his shoulders slump, he had already known of this. 

“I have already spoken with your brothers- even your rather rowdy ones, Ms. Weasley- and they are aware of the problems that would arise should you try to break this tradition.”

She eyed both of them closely. 

“Believe me, most wizards find no satisfaction in breaking tradition, and will go through great lengths to keep things as it was.” She cleared her throat. 

“But, I am not saying to give up hope. I am just telling you not to rely on it.”

She gave him a smile between kind and dangerous. “You may go, Mr. Malfoy,”

Draco took it as the dismissal it was. 

 

\------

 

Molly Weasley paced around her house in a bustle, hurriedly picking up objects and junk all the while casting spells with one hand. 

She was embarrassed to say she was nervous. 

She hadn’t been born a Weasley, like Arthur had, and she didn’t know as much about the opposition between the two families. 

And from what her children had told her about the Malfoy heir, it was going to be trouble. 

He was going to be trouble.

Annoying, inappropriately behaved, mischievous trouble,

But like his relatives had been when she’d known them in school.

So she was allowed to be nervous!

She picked up one of Arthurs dirty socks (Honestly, she’d stop trying to get him to throw them on the ground when he came home ages ago,) and made her way into the kitchen. She tied curtains, dusted cabinets, polished family heirlooms, adjusted the decorations, and overall just worked. 

It didn’t sooth her frustration 

One she had gotten the letter, she had instantly contacted Dumbledore, who insisted it was a  
(-marvelous, inspirational, eye-opening-) safe plan, but she wasn’t sure. Bringing together the family’s like this? It just seemed redundant. But she had faith in her the wise wizard, so she allowed the Malfoy boy to just barge into her home. 

On such short notice to!

After she had gotten over the denial, she owled her children to make sure they knew she wasn’t going to tolerate any misbehavior, (Fred, George, I’m referring to you,) rude language, (Ginny sweetie, please, not at the table,) roughing around, (Bill! Stop antagonizing your brothers!), or grudges, (Ronald Billius Weasley I do not want to hear it!). 

She wasn’t even going to start with Percy. 

She had called in Charlie, requesting for him to arrive, apologizing for the inconvenience of not being able to warn him sooner, and maybe giving him lecture or two on how to behave when the boy was over, for her first son added a whole new level of disobedience to her children, convinced if he said yes, that would mean they could do it without asking for her permission first. 

Charlie had sworn up and down he’d try to arrive before it was over. 

Even if he thought the whole thing was going to be Romanian Longhorn dung. 

She sighed, containing her irritation for the event, and let out a long yawn. 

Molly rubbed her face tiredly. She hoped the boy would be more polite in her home than at Hogwarts. She still couldn’t believe he had the nerve to use a phrase like mudblood on her that poor Hermione dear. 

She needed to give this kid some real rules and lessons, seeing as his parents just gave him whatever he asked for and couldn’t find the energy to even scold him for anything!

She had to keep telling herself he wasn’t her child to raise, she didn’t even know him yet, there’s nothing you can do about the fact he has different opinions than you want him to look who his parents are. 

The reasoning only helped for a while. Then a couple minutes later the problems would start up again and she couldn’t ignore the annoying fact she already hated this activity and it and hadn’t even happened yet.

Best to stay optimistic though,

Optimistichowdareyousuggestthatlookatthesituationwemustbeprepareditsalwaysbesttothinkraitonallyattimeslikethishemeanstroublehedoeswillteachyourchildrenbadthings-

Molly groaned. 

It was going to be a long- she glanced at the clock- 13 more hours. 

She tried to go find another distraction. 

 

\------

 

Draco sighed as he made his way to herbology, knowing full well what awaited him there was not going to be fun. 

He still had the scars from those mandrake roots. 

As he sat himself down, Blaise moved to sit beside him on the long bench, with Pansy on his right. 

He looked at the assortment of items on the table curiously. Small, leafy plants were all resting in pots next to every student’s hands. Each leaf was brightly colored and a different shade of green which bothered him in ways he couldn’t explain, so Draco briefly looked for a pattern about the plants but gave up halfway through, deciding the coloring was completely random. Along it was purple fuzzy moss crawling up and down the small amount of bark.

Sprout cleared her throat, “What you see before you is a fully grown tree. It may look welcoming but I wouldn’t suggest anyone handle these with their bare hands- that never end’s well- so if everyone would slip on the provided gloves beside them that would be for the best.”

Draco nodded, pulling off his own gloves in exchange for the dark blue gripped ones sitting beside his plant. 

“Has everyone gotten them on? Good, good, now watch closely,”

She picked up her own Star Moss tree by the pot, holding it up in the air so everyone could see. Across from him, Longbottom was watching her very attentively. 

She yanked sharply on the purple moss, the small tree letting out a wail of pain. 

Poor tree! Why did she do that?

“This moss, known as Stardust Moss, is used for an assortment of things. The most well-known among them being Spy ink- as I’m sure many of you here have used on multiple occasions. The object is to touch only the purple moss, because your skin would stick right to the leave because of some odd bristles coating the plant -“ She moved her hand in a snagging motion. “And it often leave nasty little cuts all along your skin, while not life-threatening it is still advised of you not to mess around with the leaves, no matter how tempting it may be to some.” Draco had always felt she rambled a little, telling things in odd orders or forgetting to inform them of something. 

She looked pointedly around the room. 

But why would we be tempted to let ourselves be cut? He didn’t bother for the answer. But he was still wondering about something else. 

He decided to raise his hand, making Blaise and Pansy look at him curiously. “Professor Sprout?”

She looked over at him. “Yes, dear?”

“Does it hinder the plant to not have the Stardust Moss?” She blinked then pointed at him. 

“That’s a good question. No, it does not harm the plant to have its moss removed, it made that sort of pained sound because it was relieved. You see, the Stardust Moss acts as a parasite, and is oddly attracted to the Star tree, that was where it got is name from.”

Draco nodded, relieved the plants weren’t losing something important because of him. 

Blaise looked at his plant apprehensively, causing Pansy to roll her eyes. 

“Blaise, your plants not going to attack you, now start peeling.” As she said this, she ripped a long piece of purple fluff off the plant. 

Draco followed suit, turning away from their conversation. He began throwing the moss into the buckets provided, wincing with each shriek the plant emitted. 

He noticed, ot his annoyance, that Longbottoms plant wasn’t making a single sound. 

He watched as the boy began carefully soothing the plant with a small stroking motion so it stopped shrieking, careful not to let his skin touch the bark or leafs surface. The plants leaves were wiggling all about in enjoyment, and Draco may or may not have let his mouth quirk up. 

He tilted his head, “How are you doing that?”

Longbottom looked up, startled. “I’m sort of petting it, like this,” he showed him moving his glove along the bark once more. 

Draco copied him cautiously. Instantly, the shrieking stopped and was replaced by a swaying motion of the plant, looking like it was dancing. 

Draco grinned at him, “Thank you! That sound really is starting to hurt my ears! I wouldn’t have thought to do that.”

Longbottom flushed, looking down and concentrating back onto his plant once more. Pansy and Blaise had clearly overheard the conversation, and had begun to pet there plant as well groaning in relief as the annoying shrieking began to die down. 

Many off the other students were peering over, suspicious of the loss of noise. Potter, Granger, and Weasley (Ron?), were staring at them skeptically. 

He turned away, because staring at them reminded him of Mcgonnagal and the truth behind her words. 

His father would kill him, not that that was what she was referring to, but it was close enough. 

He should probably listen to Mcgonnagal. 

But then again, Mcgonnagal was the one who introduced him to that old saying-

‘If you play with fire you’re going to get yourself burned’

“Hey Potter and company! Longbottom seems to be worth something after all! Check him out!”

If only she knew he had turn to ash long before the fire even started. 

If he burned with all the people he actually cared about, then he would die happy. 

And happiness was more than he could call his life, so why not try to achieve it in death?

 

\------

 

Fred glanced at George in amusement as he watched their younger brother talk with the Malfoy heir about quiditch excitedly, having found out that both of them favored the same quiditch team.

The poor boy looked torn between running away and trying to match ickle Ronikins in his enthusiasm. 

Fred tossed an enchanted stone onto the black lake, grinning at his brother briefly as it skipped across the water until it sunk to the bottom of the water with a small splash. 

“Do you think the munchkin is enjoying himself over there? He sure looks like it...”

At this point, their brother was throwing his arms in the air as he explained something or another, with the paler of the two glancing nervously across the way at his friends who were all a couple steps behind them, engrossed in their own conversations. 

“Yes, George, I happened to be thinking the same thing. By observing them I was wondering-”

“-If the golden ones are plotting something? I was thinking the same thing, Fred.”

“How unfair of them not to invite us; really, George.”

George pulled out his own enchanted stone from the basket in between them, pulling his arm back and tossing the stone with a small grunt. 

After classes ended, (With much too much homework than what was humanly possible to finish, unless you were Hermione Granger), they had been collecting the perfect shaped stones for skipping, and enchanting them to skip no matter what. This prank was sort of like a trick yo-yo, as you could pretend you were just that awesome at skipping stones. They were trying to perfect the spell, and decided to just keep trying new ways. 

The current spell that had jinxed the stones with was working rather nicely, except you could definitely tell something looked wrong as it sunk a little too deep in the water than a properly skipped stone would. 

As they walked over to skip their stones, they noticed their beloved trio was suddenly being trailed by three more students than normal. They had noticed the trio becoming more open minded about Slytherins as of later, yet it hadn’t got to this level. It was clear some invisible rock in the path had been removed, since all of them looked more relaxed and comfortable while conversing.

“Hmmm...Something on your mind, Freddie?”

“I-I’m not quite sure. I’m a little curious with where this friendship will lead our younger brother, though, I don’t know if he’s safe around-“

“-the son of a deatheater? I know, Fred, I’m not quite up to trusting the snake just yet he’s-“

“-been a git to them this whole time and is suddenly open for a friendship? Either-“

“-he is mad at his father and this is his little revenge-“

“-or we should be prepared for the worst. Whether he’s a planted spy for an upcoming deatheater reunion or-“

“-that boys in serious trouble. You can’t switch sides without becoming a target, because everyone knows in war the ultimate sign of dominance is to-“

“-take out someone who tried to betray them. Show them what happens when you aren’t loyal to the cause.”

Silence fell over them as he launched another stone across the waters, eyes drifting back to the third years.

The Malfoy heir had his hand firmly in his mouth biting down on it as his shoulder shook with laughter, while the Parkinson girl slapped their brother’s shoulder repeatedly, and Zabini had his mouth wide open and a hand to his heart, surrounded by the golden trio’s laughing faces. 

They looked happy. 

“Yea they do,”

Fred startled, because despite popular belief the twins could not read each-others minds.

“It was written all over your face.” He hadn’t even asked anything. 

Fred could only snort in amazement, wrapping his hand around his brother’s shoulder appreciatively. 

“I guess we’ll have to be the responsible ones in this situation then, George, eh?”

“Slyly, though. We can befriend the boy but we can’t trust him, for god knows mom will be all other that child.”

“And dad will probably ignore his existence.”

“And Percy will use him to get to Lucius, getting him a higher standard in the Ministry.”

“And Charlie will probably spend all day making dragon puns about his name.”

They both glanced at the other. The only one left was the most troublesome. 

“Bill will use the boy as another way to rebel from mum. Meaning-“

“-us saving their asses is only logical.” 

They grinned, and then continued their stone skipping, chatting away as If nothing had happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Tell me what you thought in the comment section!
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	6. I'm better, I promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "You must not judge your friends by how they treat their equals, but by how they treat those beneath them."

Draco awoke with a dry throat and blinking back tears. 

Then the panic sat in. 

Today, he had to get up and catch the Hogwarts train. 

And his wand alarm had just gone off, the one he set on a day where all he had in the morning was eating breakfast like a Saturday normally would. 

He was going to be late for the train. 

He flew out of his bed, grabbing his bag and his stray socks and scrabbling for the bathroom, throwing all of his clothes and shit down in his haste to open up his personal cabinet with his magic signature. 

In Slytherin, there was certain awards you received for earning you house lots of points, the person in first place got the most. 

He was in first place, so he got his own private cabinet. He deserved it. 

Once he had found his toothbrush he lathered it with mint flavored toothpaste and stuck it in his mouth, ripping his night shirt off and sliding his boxers down, changing them out for a more expensive pair, all the while continuing to brush his teeth. 

He had his silken robes he wore in the presence of his parents out, casting a quick ironing spell on it as he began to scrub his tongue, feeling completely foolish for everything happening. 

How the fuck had he slept in? He almost always woke up before that shitty alarm anyway!

Godamnit he had no luck! Luna’s spell was shit!

He got on a white collared cotton cloth shirt, and buttoning up his pants and pulling out his best watch from within his cabinet (which was expanded by a bottomless charm). 

He saw the time and froze. 

5:51

He groaned loudly. Someone had changed his alarm. 

As a prank. 

He was going to get Pansy to fucking kill them sense his wand wouldn’t have it. 

He looked at himself in the mirror with a snarl as he continued brushing his teeth, growling under his breath throughout the whole event. 

If Slytherin common room had real sunlight, he would’ve just checked to see if it was bright outside. 

But they were under the fucking ground. 

This was a great fucking way to start off what could be the most disastrous weekend of his life. 

Draco laughed, rather hysterically if you were to ask anyone that wasn’t him. 

Draco took a shower yesterday so he didn’t have to waste time on blowing out his hair today (Because only fictional people had the time to take a shower every day, besides, it wasn’t good for your skin or your hair). 

So he began buttoning up his shirt better, lacing on expensive items here and there, tying his hair up in an intentionally displeasing way for his father. He spelled more mirror charms on, just for the sake of paranoia, laced his mother’s favorite boots, and looked at himself in the mirror. 

He looked nice, his blonde hair and pale skin clashing with the dark colors of his robes as always, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as his legs felt like lead and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was meet up with the Weasley’s. 

Ron (Weasley?) had told him yesterday that the official time the experiment started was when they entered the train at Hogwarts, this was when they ‘switched lives’ and what not. 

Draco heard a knock on the door. 

“Draco-“ he yawned, “it’s like five, you alright? Why are you up so early?”

I’m up this early every day!

“I’ll be right out, Blaise, just...let me handle something alright?” 

A silencing spell. 

Stress was welling up in his stomach, and he had to keep a cool head. He set himself down by the toilet seat, scrunching his nose up at being on the floor, before making sure no hair was in his face. Unlike when he usually resorted to this, he felt rather calm. 

At peace of mind. 

His fingers found their way to the back of his throat, he gagged easily, familiarly, and even though stomach acid was the only thing that came out, something settled in his head. 

His stomach, however, was twisting and turning, gargling unhappily at the lack of food inside it. 

-Hunger is just a suggestion, sweatheart, your body doesn’t actually need the food its asking for-

He took a deep breath, no bad thoughts, just relaxation. 

Relaxation. 

When he finally stood back up, his head was dizzy and his limbs ached, but his head was clear. 

He performed his ritual of hiding the habit, got rid of his bad breath, soothed the glands in his throat, and threw a smile on his face. 

He opened the door to see a sleepy Blaise with his mouth peeled open, eyes practically closed and eyebrows raised. 

“Why did you follow me?”

“Curious.”

“Yes, well, curiosity killed the cat.”

“’M not a cat.”

“Fair point, let me bring another subject to the table. I need you to help me commit homicide.”

Blaise yawned. “I woke up to a bunch of second years daring a first year at like 2 o’clock to replace your timers set alarm. I think the guy felt back so he made it earlier instead of later. I was planning on telling you, but I fell back to sleep...and now we’re here...”

Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. He would have felt better if he got to sick Pansy and Blaise on someone today, but he wasn’t that rude. Not even someone with a block of ice for a heart could be that cold. 

He was knew that was and ironic metaphor okay? He was aware many students pretended he was made form ice, but he was stressed, so suck it. 

“I had a heart attack and died, you know, when my alarm went off and it said seven. Did they spell my clock to so I thought I was late?”

Blaise nodded sleepily. “Can I go back to bed now?” Draco glared. 

“No, we have important business to attend to. You and Pansy have to look your best today, os we can pretend we’re intimidating.”

Blaise looked up, aghast, apparently having got over his sleepiness. “We don’t need to pretend to be intimidating, we ARE intimidating!”

“Blaise, you sleep with so many stuffed animals I can’t see your actual covers anymore.”

He just got an exhausted glare in return. Draco stifled a yawn himself. 

“Let’s go get Pansy, she would want to dress her best today.”

Blaise nodded, “you do that, ‘M gonna’ go change. Even though wearing my sleep clothes would be hilarious. I’d loved to see there faces...” his mumbling trailed off as he walked away.

Draco nodded encouragingly to himself. He walked down the small spiral staircase that lead down to the boy’s dorm, crossed the large fire place, then stood in front of the girls dormitory door. 

An archway that had a large stone snake following along its curve daunted him. 

Any of the boy’s that tried to pass would instantly find themselves facing one very intimidating snake. The snake was skilled in legilmency, so was the tale, because somehow the dang spell always knew when someone’s intention in the girl’s dormitory was either hostile or...well sexual. 

Not a single boy that planned on being with their girlfriend had ever made it passed the snake. Of course there were attempts, several seventh years tried immobilis and petrificus totalis charms, one time the quidtich team even tried just dog piling through. 

But not once had a sexual encounter happened in the girl’s dormitory. 

So, meaningless to say, a lot of people both took it as a challenge and a sexual fantasy. 

He stood tall as he walked straight under the snake, its red eyes following his movements as he made his way down the stairs. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he came across the silver locker that was placed on the door to enter. A notice board was pinned to it, with an assortment of magazines and daily profit articles scattered along it. 

He smirked as he began picking the lock, having done this odd thing more than enough times with his own dormitory door. 

It was funny how it harder to get into their dormitorys then their common rooms, but whatever. 

Both the boys’ and the girls’ doors required someone skilled in lockpicking to open it. Last year, he Pansy and Blaise cackled as the Prefect left the first years to their own defenses. Some of them were even stupid enough to try alohomora on the door, which caused the lock to throw him back in defense. You had to be able to pick the lock, not spell it open!

The first years were standing out there for a solid three hours before Astoria stormed through, past a wheezing in laughter snape, past his trio, past both head boy and girl, barreled through the smirking prefects, and let them in with a coo, spending the rest of the night teaching the first years how to pick the lock and glaring at everyone else. 

Stupid Astoria, always making us Slytherin’s look bad in comparison... 

Draco stepped into the room with a small yawn. 

He walked inot the girls’ large room, which, unlike some of the other houses, every girl shared. It was just one big open floor plan, with each girl getting their own separate little room. The large hall he walked into had hundreds of doors, each with a different persons name engraved onto it. 

He heard that the gryffindore’s didn’t have their own rooms, and instead had curtains blocking their beds. 

That sounded horrible. 

He found Pansy’s name by going alphabetically, and gave it a small knock. 

“Oh, Draco dear! Just when I needed you! I have some outfit questions.”

It was just like his friend to already be up and about.

Draco smiled gently at her, letting the girl grab his arm in a loose grip and drag him into her room. 

Her bed was perfectly made, sliver sheets tucked into with a green striped throw cover strewn on the side of it. She had a small cabinet, and, of course, her own bathroom right next to her. 

Laughable what expansion charms could do, really. 

Pansy scuttled back into her closet, showing him a dark green tank-top and a sparkly sliver high collared one that didn’t have sleeves. 

“Which ones better for the odd occasion? I was thinking that I need to look my best, even if I wont be going with you, fake intimidation and all!”

Draco threw his arms in the air. “See? I told Blaise just that!”

Pansy giggled and began lifting the shirts up and down like a scale. 

“Neither. That’s too casual, we need to look formal.” 

Pansy nodded then heaved herself back into her closet. 

Draco rubbed his eyes. Today was going to be a long day. 

 

\------

 

Ron moaned as he fruitlessly tried to turn his wands alarm off. 

He blinked his eyes open, rolling over with a yawn. He really, really did not feel like facing today. Wouldn’t it just be better to not go at all? If he didn’t get out of bed then he didn’t have to spend any time at all with the Malfoy’s of all people. 

The thought made him whine piteously. 

He slumped out of bed, practically inch worming to his pile of robes. He tossed his blanket off from around him, throwing it back on his bed (and missing), then began rummaging through his clothing. 

“Da da nanana! Hahaha...”

Ron pulled on his shirt, feigning a sob. “haha why m-eeh-heee....”

He heard a mumbled protest from on the other side of his curtain. “Ron, stop whining about, you’ve had all week to come to terms with this!”

“It’s not you who has to spend their WEEKEND with a bunch of horrible racists...”

“Well, Ron, it’s not you who had to spend all summer with a bunch of racists.”

Ron grumbled. “Fair point...”

He buttoned his robes, cracking his back as he stood up to release some tension. He opened his curtains and was met with a nearly empty space, all of his roommates gone aside from an impatiently tapping his foot Harry. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming...merlin’s beard...” he shuffled over to harry, who promptly began walking away from him. 

Ron followed harry out of the portrait hole, all the while rolling his eyes. Hermione was waiting outside, looking anxious and frazzled. 

“Ron! Hurry up and eat breakfast so you can catch the train!”

He huffed. The train left at 7:30 for fucks sake. He had a whole forty seven minutes to eat some food and then get there. 

Plenty of time. 

“Ronald! Honestly, I’m sure Malfoy has already said his farewells to his friends and is just playing solitaire on the train or something! Hurry up!” Hermione hit him in the side with her parchment, giving him a withering glare. 

He avoided answering by asking, “What’s solitaire?”

Hermione huffed. “It’s a muggle card game...” she muttered, increasing her steps. He matched hers with a struggle. 

“Then I doubt he’s playing, ‘mione.” She held her parchment threateningly in front of him. 

He raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, sorry...” he yawned, “Your really scary, you know that, Hermione?” 

She just smirked in response. 

They made the trek to the great hall in record time, probably due to Hermione’s insane speed walking. 

Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table with a huff, looking at the hufflepuff food longingly. He remembered what harry, him, and Zabini had done with a grin, laughing lightly to himself as he thought about how him and Harry still had a few left-overs from that day. 

He shoveled some pie onto his plate, chewing it quickly both to reassure and annoy Hermione that, yes, he was going to make it there, and no, I will not have table manners. 

“Hey, Ron, by the way I read through some of those warnings Malfoy gave you. It seemed like he was really serious about it. He strongly recommended you not go anywhere near the ‘trophy hall’, which is absurd that they have one in their house anyway.” Hermione told him, holding out the warning list for him to take back. Ron took it without complaint, because he was pretty sure he was going to need it. 

He glanced to his left to see Fred and George making their way out of the hall, clearly preparing for the experiment. 

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. “Merlin Hermione! If you want me to go that bad I will!”

Hermione shook her head furiously. “Not that’s not it! Haven’t you read the daily prophet?”

Ron slowly shook his head. 

She passed him the paper with a frown. He glanced down. 

‘SERIUS BLACK PROVES A POINT

Not even a month after Black’s still unexplained escape from Azkaban Prison, many people have been reported missing, all happening to be ghosts from Blacks past-‘

Ron sighed setting the paper down to show it to a frustrated Harry. 

“You okay, mate?”

Harry grit his teeth. “Just fine. I think I’m going to go to the bathroom. Have a nice trip, Ron.”

Ron rubbed his eyes tiredly as he watched his friend leave with a, frankly, shitty goodbye. 

Hermione patted his hand gently. “I think Harry’s just really stressed Ron. I mean, it’s the first week of school, and he’s already gone through more than most people go through in a year. He didn’t mean anything spiteful by it.”

Ron felt his headache curl. “I know, ‘mione. I just needed some support is all.”

She smiled sympathetically at him. 

 

\------

 

Draco boarded the train to Hogwarts at exactly seven o clock. 

Right on time. He was acutely aware of the fact the only students one the train was him, and the eldest of the Weasley’s that still went to Hogwarts. 

Percy. 

He groaned as he was waved over by a prim man, a head boy badge proudly showing on his robe. 

Well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t know how to handle people with a much bigger ego that this guy. 

“Hello, Draco. It’s good to truly make your acquaintance. Percy Weasley.” The man held out his hand to him as Draco walked over to the compartment he stood by. 

For just an instance, Draco contemplated throwing his whole chance of getting on there good side by saying ‘I think I can sort out the wrong sort for myself, thanks.’

But he didn’t. Instead, a beaming smile drew across his face. “Draco- just that, for today, I believe. That is kind of the whole meaning of this project-“ Draco knitted his brows together, biting his lip. 

“Right?”

Percy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Indeed.”

First way to get on a egotists good side, make them aware you know they are better than you. By asking the question, he was acknowledging the fact he was in the presence of a person of superior intelligence and wisdom, and seeking help from them.

“Oh well, may i?” he motioned to the compartment he was at, making sure to shuffle his feet just so, as he clasped his hands behind his back. 

Percy rubbed his shoulder consolingly. “Of course, we don’t bite- well, most of us, anyways.”

Draco sat down, waving to his friends as they explored the grounds of Hogsmede for the first time. 

Percy titled his head, “You know them?”

Draco nodded, enjoying perhaps a bit too much his manipulation of the Head Boy. A small smile graced his lips. 

“I do, since I was four, actually. At least, that’s the first memory I have of them.”

Percy instantly latched on to this object of conversation. “So they’re like family?”

Draco bit his lip, looking at him through his eyelashes. “Well, Blaise is but...”

He chuckled, a teasing grin on his face. “Ooh hoo, somebody’s got a lady friend.”

He put both hands to his face with a groan. “Sweet Salazar, don’t call her that!”

Percy just smiled mischievously. 

Draco spent the next twenty minutes of his life listening to a complete stranger ramble about his internship at the ministry of magic. There was couple times when the boasting got so far-fetched he wondered if Percy knew he was entirely aware of exactly how things are run by the ministry, and could also count on his fingers how many times he had been wrong about a decree. 

But overall, the Weasley was good company, made nice conversation, and actually did know some facts about the ministry of magic’s laws Draco wouldn’t have.

“Aww! Older brother stop torturing the boy! I’m sure he isn’t following a word of that rubbish your spewing!”

Percy flushed. Draco shook his head. “No, no! He was just telling me about what The Minister said to him, do go on!”

“Oh, yes well, as I was saying, Fudge said, when Millicent Bagnold’s retired, that she requested for him personally- yes, personally, in favor of even Dumbledore becoming the minister! –OH, have ou heard that story, the one where Dumbledore almost became the Minister instead of Fudge! I mean, the old mans perfect for the school, but, let’s just look at financially how Hogwarts is actually doing? We don’t want that drop of galleons to our whole society, no sir-“

Fred and George let out a loud groan, but it was Fred who spoke, he could tell because he had noticed a slight pattern in the twin’s behavior, Fred was much more vocal and social then his brother was. “Don’t tell me you’re actually interested in this bull, Draco? Please don’t, I can’t have another Percy, I wont be able to handle it!”

Draco bit his lip, feeling torn, “Well, most of it is good conversation, but if you don’t wish to converse over this we can start on a new topic, Fred.” He suggested. 

George glanced at Fred, looking surprised. “How did you know who was who? I mean, you had a 50/50 chance, but I didn’t take you as a gambler.”

Draco grinned, watching Percy scoot over on his bench for his brothers dejectedly. 

“Oh well, I’ve noticed that you two have a pattern when you talk. Fred first, George second.”

The both smirked at him, then at the same time said- 

“You sure have our approval to be our fake brother.”

Draco laughed slightly, rubbing his arm shyly. “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” Percy interrupts, looking jealously at his brothers. Draco shrugged his shoulders, deciding to let them decide. 

See? That was a decision, PANSY, he made decisions all of the time. 

HA.

“Would you perhaps like-“

“To see our new game set of Exploding Snaps?”

Draco felt his first genuine expression slide onto his features. “I should warn you, I dominate this game.”

George and Fred just shared a look. 

Percy cleared his throat. “Must we? I mean, I was rather enjoying our talks from before.”

Draco looked at him sympathetically. “Well, no one said silence was a rule of this game, so talk away!”

Draco regretted that decision instantly as Percy began rambling about the ministry once more. 

The next thirty minutes was spent in obvious failure, as Percy talked and Fred and George complained about him not playing his turn, resulting Percy rolling his eyes and downright ignoring him. But it still went relatively smoothly, all except for when one of the snaps had got just a little too close to his face and he had pressed his back harshly into the chair. The worried looks he received was from everyone, that he had never received from his real parents (and would never), had instigated harsh jealously to claw its way to his throat and make his once joking jabs a little bit crueler in nature. 

Finally, just before eight o clock arrived, he saw a small figure out the window bolting towards the station. 

 

\------

 

Ron looked at his watch in alarm. “Seven forty five? When did it turn seven forty five???”

Hermione glared at him. “One minute ago when it was seven forty four,”

Ron stood up, grabbing his bag. “Gotta go, bye hermione!”

He saw Hermione stand up as he bolted out of the great hall, waving her arms at him. “Bye Ronald, don’t die!”

Ron found her warning unlikely to be heeded. 

He was making his way down the large stair case that led to the grounds when he was stopped by Filch. 

“Excuse me, but to go any farther then you’ll need a Hogsmede permission slip.”

Ron glared, shifting form foot to foot. “I’m going to the train!”

He was about to bolt off again, when a scruffy hand grabbed his robes. “Permission slip!”

Filch demanded. 

Ron groaned, flipping his bag open and sorting through all of his papers. 

7:51

He was fucked. 

“Uh, okay...here! Here it is!” he shoved the crumbled up contract into the caretaker’s hands impatiently, glancing down at his clock and watching it twist to 7:52. 

Filch nodded, “Alright. I accept this as legitimate. Have a...nice time.” The man still looked skeptical, but handed him the papers back anyway. 

Ron hurriedly shoved all of his stuff back into his trunk, dragging it once more to the train station. 

He ran along the Hogsmede village in wonder, seeing as it was his first time there. A couple of peculiar things was around him, like an entire shop completely flipped upside down, but he wrote it off as unique architecture. 

7:57

He bolted into the large doors of the train station, met by empty rows of lines, and red velvet partitions. He ran and ducked under them, attempting to get to the train as fast as possible. 

A woman stopped him. “Excuse me sir, ticket?”

She looked excited for a customer, which was probably where as those who lived in both Hogwarts and hogsmede hardly ever took this train, so much that they just started calling it the ‘Hogwarts Train’ because no one but students really road on it. 

He passed her his gold ticket, all the while tapping his foot. 

“Alright, everything seems to be in order-“

He snatched the ticket back and made his way up the stairs the second she opened the red rope for his entry. 

Eventually, he hit the next flight of stairs, making his way to the top floor where the train was about to lift off. 

He came up to a lattice like roof, with the Hogwarts train sitting stationary on its railroad in mint condition. 

He ran on the brick floors up to the luggage area, practically chucking his bag on the outlined square, and nearly knocking over the sign that said. ‘Please leave all luggage here, where the house elves will take to our chosen compartment.’

He slid open one of the many doors to the train, slumping in relief. 

7:59

He groaned. 

A loud voice echoed through the train. “All aboard the Hogsmede village train, please take your seats and enjoy the ride as we are about to take off. I repeat, we are about to start moving.”

He slowly got to his feet, panting harshly. 

That was the worst. Also a little irrational, but he had to make it here somehow. A snicker startled him out of his reverie. 

“Nice running, brother, we watched you fly through hogsmede from our compartment. You gave Draco quite a laugh!”

Ron slumped. 

“Do I get to be in the compartment with you guys? Malfoy doesn’t have any siblings, and we cant very well demand his friends come aboard.”

Fred and George placed their hands on their chins thoughtfully. 

“What do you think George?”

“I think mum would have our head should we ban him from our compartment, even if he’s not our brother anymore.”

“I was thinking just the same thing, George!”

Ron noticed a little quirk his brothers had. They often ended all of their sentences with each other’s name so a person listening to them would be able to tell who was talking. 

“Righteo Fred!”

See?

He dragged his feet as he made his way to the compartment. 

The door slid open and he was met with a giggling Malfoy, his hand to his mouth to stifle the sounds. 

He groaned. “Hey! How else was I supposed to get here?” Malfoy pursed his lips. 

“Wake up earlier?”

Ron put a hand to his heart, taking a step back. “How dare you suggest such a vile act! Waking up early...” he spat glaring at the ground. “Preposterous.”

He got another bout of laughter from Malfoy, concealed by white gloved fingers. 

“So, Ronald, want to explain why you’re so late.”

It didn’t slip past Ron’s attention that Draco abruptly stopped laughing, turning to Percy attentively.

Odd, that is, he looks just like he’s addressing a teacher. 

“Oh, come off it Percy. Have you been ranting about the ministry again?”

Fred and George both glared. 

“Literally nonstop-“

“Every second-“

“And the little snake actually carries out a conversation with him-“

“I mean it’s truly a sight to behold-“

“I’ve never seen someone interact with Percy without telling him off before. And he’s been here for about forty minutes.”

Malfoy looked at him with a scrunched up nose. 

“64 minutes to be exact.”

Silence. 

Fred and George just looked down right bewildered, while Percy looked slightly put out, probably thinking Malfoy had been so bored he had just watched the minutes tick by.

Malfoy’s face had turned beat red. He spluttered. 

“I’m sorry, so sorry- I have this tick- I just track time. I’ve done it since I was about seven; it sort of just... became a habit of mine after that.”

Malfoy raised his hands, shaking them back and forth with nervous laughter. Fred and George shrugged. 

“We all have our things.”

But, Percy, being the nosy git he was, leaned forward. 

“That’s pretty precise tracking. Do you have a watch on you?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I didn’t bring it. I just calculate the time in my head.”

Percy grinned, actually grinned.

No fucking way had Malfoy got on Percy’s good side. Merlin’s beard, of course. 

Ron scooted in the seat next to Malfoy, purposefully bumping shoulders with him to watch for the way Malfoy drew back instantly, shifting away so not a single part of him touched the other boy. 

They continued on like this, small banter, idle chatter, and a lot of Malfoy and George going head-to-head in exploding snaps. Eventually, the rest of them got exhausted of the game playing out the exact same way every time, with them getting eliminated and Malfoy and George spending ages going back and forth, neither willing to give in. they got the brilliant idea to team up against them, but only then realized the mistake. They had accidentally united the once rival’s and both of them completely dominated the board, so many times that soon they just declared them the champions because they were tired of losing. 

Small problems arose, like how Malfoy had way too much respect for Percy, and just did literally what he told him to. Actually, Percy was usually the problem, because he couldn’t just suck it up and play a game, but had to talk over and over again, interrupting them every time they got Malfoy to actually do something with them! 

Eventually, though, Malfoy had dosed off, leaning heavily against the window, and their compartment quieted. 

“He seems pleasant.” It was Percy who broke the comfortable silence, staring fixedly at Malfoys sleeping form.

Fred and George screwed their noses up. “A bit of a suck up, but not awful.”

Ron stayed quiet, watching Malfoy’s brow furrow in his sleep, not unlike how harry got when the beginnings of a nightmare started. 

He let out a small grunt, glancing at his brothers who were looking expectantly at him. He satered stubbornly back at Malfoy. 

“I think something fishy is going on here.”

It wasn’t a lie; he did feel that something was amiss. 

“I’ve noticed. He seems too nice, too suddenly.” One of the twins told him, looking at the boy now skeptically. 

It was at that moment Malfoy shifted, making a small, weak sound in the back of his throat. his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his mouth was parted, short and labored puffs of air forcing thier way out of a crackly dry throat. 

Instinct more than anything made his arm snap out to shake his shoulder, having done so many times with Harry to the point where he didn’t even question the action. 

Malfoy bolted upright, his pony tail in a disarray his pupils blown wide. The blonde boy instantly pressed himself against the window, hands wrapped tightly around his head. 

His whole body was shaking. 

It was Percy that moved first. 

He reached across the table, grabbing both of Malfoys arm and talking in slow, soothing tones. 

“Hey, hey, whoa there, it’s okay. It’s not real. It’s just a nightmare.”

He’d never seen harry react this way. It made his stomach churn. 

Malfoy slowly blinked, his eyes focusing on Percy, before gasping sharply and ripping his hands away, looking frazzled. He rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry...” he croaked. Fred and George both waved their arms in dismissal. 

“Want to tell us what that was, mate?”

Malfoy groaned lightly. “Nightmares. I’ve always gotten ‘em real bad. Used ta’, wake up screaming and crying. Mummie always had ta’ take me down from it. They still haven’t gotten any better...”

It was the first time Ron had ever heard Draco speak with even a hint of improper grammar. Harry had had nightmares since he was little too. He remembered being told Harry used to scream until those foul muggles started not giving him breakfast when he woke them up in the middle of the night. 

Fred and George had identical grins on their lips. 

“’Mummie?’ Is that what you call Mrs. Malfoy? Why, you learn something new every day, don’t you George?”

Draco laughed, seemingly unfazed by the rather cruel teasing. “Only sometimes. Usually she’s very strict about me addressing her properly. She’d have my head if she knew I’d slipped.”

And there it was again, the reference to his parents’ strict teachings. Ron would be down-right stupid if he ignored so many tell-tale signs of abuse Malfoy managed to hide. 

But why lie?

“Ah, that makes sense. Do you get nightmares often, or do they just happen sometimes?”

Malfoy made face. “It’s a miracle if I get any sleep at all. If I don’t have a nightmare, then I’ve either died or someone woke me up so...”

Percy shook his head. “That’s rough, mate. Is it more of an anxiety or panic attack?”

Ron looked to Percy bewildered. Weren’t those the exact same thing?

“Anxiety, once the problems initially gone so is the attack.”

Percy nodded, as if he understood this. Fred and George’s eyes met each-others. 

“Wait, what’s the difference between them?”

To his surprise, it’s Percy who answers, fiddling with his robe with a nostalgic look on his face. 

“A panic attack comes sporadically, commonly from stressful occurrences built up over time. During a panic attack the victim is seized with fear, and often apprehension. An anxiety attack, on the other hand, has a stressor. The victim feels overwhelmed, anxious, and out of breath. But the most distinguishing difference is the time spans. A panic attack can last anywhere full-force from 20 to 30 minutes, whilst an anxiety attack is normally in the range of 10 minutes, normally dulling 30 minutes after the initial attack.” 

Ron felt his surprise show on his face. But he should have expected it, really, Percy knew a lot about medical stuff. Mum had even once told him that Percy used to want to be a medi-wizard at Saint Mungos.

Ron saw Malfoys eyes drooping once more as he curled into the window again. 

“’m gonna go back ta sleep now.”

Ron made an amused sound at the back of his throat that the sleepy Slytherin probably didn’t even catch. 

 

\------

 

Draco yawned as he felt a hand push him awake gently, opening his eyes to see Percy Weasley’s face staring back at him. 

“Come one, mate, we’ve arrived at the station.”

Draco turned his eyes to see that yes, they were at the station normally bustling station but today mostly subdued, except for the few wizards who were aiming to get back to hogsmede and perhaps here to ship supplies to Hogwarts as well. 

He heaved himself to his feet, keeping the wobbling to a minimum. He grabbed his trunk from the compartment above him that the house-elves had left, smirking ever so slightly at the thought of Ron rushing through the halls to get on the train. What the boy didn’t know was that he had asked the train conductor to hold on a couple minutes, because his friend was running a little late. The man had nodded sympathetically and carried out a small conversation with him about how odd it was to see Hogwarts kids going back home in the middle of the year, and that Dumbledore would have his head should he leave behind one of the five students he was assigned to take to platform 9/3. 

He had then proceeded to wonder why they were coming back in the first place, and Draco explained it as a project that was designed to unite the Weasley and Malfoy clans. The man hadn’t bothered to contain his snort. 

He walked down the line, a nervous jitter in his stomach. His parents didn’t meet him up at the station, never had, but he wasn’t sure about the Weasleys’. 

He thought he ought to tell Ron that. 

“Hey, Ron, I think you should know me parents don’t meet me at the station. I take the knight bus to the gates of Malfoy Manor and they wait there to grant me access, just in case you didn’t know.”

Ron stumbled in his step. “But I don’t have any money on me! How am I to take the knight bus?”

Draco dug a hand into his pocket, pulling out a small coin with the a shield symbol on it. 

“Here, this is a pass for the bus. It’s re-usable, so my Father bought one for me so I stopped wasting galleons every year on my trips back and forth, yea? Just return it after you’re done.”

Something like annoyance flickered across the freckled boys face, but Draco brushed it off. It’s not like he could control how much money his parents wasted. 

They made their way out of the train in single file, the first thing he noticed being a girl waiting by her parents with a grin on her face. 

Oh my fucking god. 

He hadn’t even noticed the Weaslette wasn’t on the godamn train. What a good first impression. 

She was being held by an irate Mrs. Weasley in a vice grip, which made everything inside of him want to hide very far away from her. He knew from experience how scary mothers were. 

How hadn’t he noticed she wasn’t there again?

The red haired girl was clutching a broom tightly in her hands, her whole face flushed and satisfied. It instantly alerted him to what she had done. 

She had flown. On her broom stick. All the way here. 

The other Weasley’s clearly knew of her plot by the amused grins on each of their faces, aside from Percy’s who looked extremely disappointed. 

“I told her not to do it.” Percy said, addressing his younger siblings. 

“Who could imagine that?’ Ron muttered spitefully under his breath. 

Before they made it over there, Ron waved goodbye to them, still examining his knight bus coin intently. He had said something about ‘avoiding his mother’s wrath and how ‘Malfoy’ll have to take it for me’. Which Malfoy’ll was not correct. And then just hurriedly ran away, unnoticed by Mrs. Weasley who wa still red in the face and glaring heatedly down at her daughter, who didn’t even looked mildly fazed by her anger. 

That girl has guts. 

When Mrs. Weasley caught their eye she motioned them over sternly, raising both of her eyebrows at Fred and George. They walked over at a hurried pace, half to avoid the crowds and half to avoid keeping her waiting. 

“Fred, George, I’ll have you know that just because you did not join your sister in her flight to London, does not mean you’re getting off the hook.”

Draco was proud to say he only panicked slightly. He could feel his instinct to apologize kicking in, to just try to soothe her anger down. He bit his tongue harshly to stop himself, but that didn’t mean he stopped anxiously tapping his foot. 

Percy gave Ginny a shake of his head. “Them, I expected this from, but you? I thought you knew better.” He sounded incredibly resigned as he said it, lips pursed and head shaking from side to side.

Mrs. Weasley turned to him, “Molly Weasley, pleasure to meet you. I hope you don’t mind I cant give you a proper greeting as of yet.”

He blinked, the scratched his head. “Uh, that fine mam...”

She gave him a startled look. “Oh, uh...well aren’t you polite? You don’t have to call me that, ah...?”

“Draco. Draco Weasley.”

Her lips burst into a small smile. 

“OF course, how could I forget my own son’s name? I must be a terrible mother.”

Draco relaxed. She was much easier to calm than his own mother. “Terrible? Aww, don’t be so down on yourself. With how many kids you have, I wouldn’t blame you for losing track. Mother sometimes does the ‘Luciu- no no, Draco?’ with me with and only has one child. I have no idea how you manage it. ”

She practically beamed at him. “Well Draco, I look forward to getting to know you. But don’t think you two are off the hook young men!” she abruptly span around to face her other two sons, who groaned. 

“Couldn’t you have distracted her a little longer?” George mumbled under his breath. 

“I do not appreciate you encouraging my daughter to behave so scandalously! And on a day such as this!”

Fred looked at her defiantly. “Wow, mother dear, it’s amazing how we get in trouble we didn’t even do anything.”

He just back talked her. Big time. Didn’t they know pointing out a flaw in a parents parenting was the worst way to go to try to get them off your back? They were being down right stupid, that’s what!

Draco shivered at the thought of what his parents would do if he acted that way. A thought occurred to him, where was Mr. Weasley? Did just Mrs. Weasley pick them up?

“Oh, sorry dearie, Arthur was called in for a ministry emergency. Apparently some kids thought it would be a brilliant idea to visit the muggle shops outside of Hogsmede. The young witchl wanted to have a new experience with her boyfriend. Sadly, of course, the muggles were suspicious of children that seemingly came from know where and had no idea what most of their items did, and called their services, equivalent to aurours, I presume, and the kids were taken into custody.”

Draco failed to hide his snort of laughter, even as he clamped his hand down hard on his mouth. He had never been able to stop himself from laughing. 

“You may find it amusing but it caused right havoc at the ministry! Apparently, they’ve resorted to obliviating the whole facility the two were being held in and that poor town!”

Draco burst into a small fit of laughter. He knew exactly what two purebloods were sneaking around. Those two idiots got themselves caught!

“You look far too happy about something.” Ginny Weasley spoke up for the first time. 

“I just didn’t think Blaise and Pansy would actually do it,” He replied. Mrs. Weasley instantly turned on him. 

“You know the kids that caused this!?” he shrunk back shyly, plucking at his sleeve. 

“Well, the three of us were planning to see if any of the muggles might have been the ones who were causing the Imps to appear at hogsmede. We thought it made since, since the town was so close.” He turned away from her, “They were only supposed to check their papers to see if anything suspicious had been happening...” he mumbled. Mrs. Weasley got a look of realization of her face. 

“I didn’t even think about that! Even if the muggles aren’t causing it they’re still in close enough proximity that they could be effected by the imps! Oh, I’ve got to alert Dumbledore!”

He felt really awkward having a conversation about muggles with a group of people who acted like they were just a part of life, normal people that just existed among them. 

It was strangely refreshing. 

The woman bustled around for a second, seemed to remember where she was, and let out a long annoyed groan. She gathered them all up, amongst the chaos Draco felt himself sink into a very introverted part of his mind, and forced them all out of the train station all the while scolding her children fiercely. Ginny Weasley was surprisingly prideful, and had decided to not be allowed desert rather than give her mother a hug after her apology. Which was absurd, why wouldn’t she accept a hug? He had been tempted to volunteer himself to take her place, honestly. 

Only when they were out in London streets did she address him. 

“So, anyway, Draco dear, tell me about yourself.”

He clung harshly to his arm, having enjoyed not being spoken too for those blissful minutes. 

“What sorts of things are you looking to know?” he asked her, forcing himself to clasp his hands behind his back and appear as friendly and not-shy as possible. 

“How about the simple kind of things like school, friends, favorite foods, ect! I can make whatever you like best for dinner, you know!” her arms waved around as she hobbled in an adorable way that made him wonder if she had back pain. 

He gave her a small smile, although it was forced because he could still feel the flight instinct crawling its way up to his throat and begging him to run as far away from her as possible. 

His heart was beating extremely fast. It reminded him of what Percy had said about the anxiety attacks.

“Oh, well, my friends are the ones I already told you about, Pansy and Blaise, but I suppose I also like this girl named Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw, she’s rather kind. Ah, you said school? I pass, I suppose, I like Study of Ancient Runes the best, I take it with Pansy, and of course Potions.” 

She gave him a small chuckled, turning sharply on a corner that made him question just where they were going and why they weren’t just flooing. 

Fred and George beat her on the comment section, though. “Ancient Runes? But it’s all language and mathematical work! It’s got to be one of the hardest subjects out there! And I mean, ickle Ron told us you were taking Care of Magical Creatures, so are you taking three extracurricular classes?”

He relaxed, feeling safe on a subject he could rant to someone for hours on end about. “I’d take more if I could, but I’m afraid divination is at the same time as Care of Magical Creatures, and I feel you learn more about problems you might face in real life scenarios than in divination, which seemed more like a for-fun class.” He told them brightly, stopping as they stopped to turn to him in shock. 

“For fun? I argue that there aren’t any classes that are ‘for fun’!” Fred protested. Although he could see Percy looked oddly pleased. 

Draco chuckled. “There are when you’re as shite with transfiguration as I am, my dang wand just refuses to work with me!”

“Now, now Fred; George, everyone’s got their own opinion. And what’s this about trouble with Transfiguration? Why, that one has always come so naturally to me.”

He sighed. “It’s not just transfiguration, its charms and DADA too. Pretty much all hands on spells difficult for me.” If anything, Mrs. Weasley looked even more exasperated. 

“Oh, but that just can’t be right! Your magical core should interact strongly with that sort of magic!”

He understood what she meant. He was a pureblood Malfoy/Black, you couldn’t get better magic if you tried. His father must’ve been right, it really was just him. 

“And yet my wand is about as helpful as a stick! I’ve got a unicorn tail hair with Hawthorn wood! Its made to destroy me!”

This caused a bout of laughter from every member of the family. “There is just no way- A unicorn tail hair core? It’s almost laughable.”

Her hand rose in the air (to ruffle your hair you fine—) but Draco’s panic seized. He flinched away from the hand, scooting ever so slowly behind the twins. 

She lowered her hand but didn’t comment. 

They finally came to a spot where they were to stop, apparently, but he looked around and saw that they were just in an odd street in London. He had never been here before, his father flooed and apparted him everywhere, even to his work! What were they doing. 

An odd glass room stood in the middle of the old street that they were for some reason being ushered over to. 

“Mam, do you mind me asking where we’re going?”

Percy gave him a confused look. “I though you said you’ve been to the ministry before. We’re- well, I am, picking dad up. Then all of you will unpack and go home.”

Draco felt entirely too confused. “But- well, why didn’t we all just floo to our separate places?”

Mrs. Weasley gave him a stern look. “Well, we all make different money dear. We don’t have any floo powder so we can’t floo. This is the only other way to get to the ministry. Then, all of us will take a muggle train back to the burrow.”

Draco felt entirely too confused at this new lifestyle. It was beginning to shock him just how little he had actually known about their financial situation. Sure, he knew they were poor, but never had he imagined them not owning floo! Especially with how you can buy it in bulk!

 

\------

 

Ron stood with his wand out, tapping his foot and hoping Malfoy wasn’t faking him out with this coin. 

That would be embarrassing. 

Then a loud SWISH swept by him, followed by an obnoxious clank. He turned his head to the road, startled.

“Welcome to the knight bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this afternoon.”

Emergency transport? Well, he wasn’t in dire need.

“Oh- er, well, I-“

“What’chu mumbling for? Come on, I haven’t got all day! There are others in the bus you know!”

Ron stumbled slightly, picking up his trunk.

“No, no, what is it with you kids and thinking that’s your job? Ill handle that, up you go onto the bus!”

Ron obediently clambered up the steep steps and onto the brightly colored bus. It was narrower than it appeared, with seats lining along every available wall and beds up above them. A tired looking couple was sleeping on each other on one of the benches to his right, while a young woman was snoring loudly to his left.

“That’ll be 4 sickles!”

That’s was expensive! He hoped this coin worked...

“Umm...a friend lent me this...” he pulled the galleon out, earning a look of amusement from the conductor, Stan. 

“You know Draco then? Ah, well, any friend of his is a friend of ours! ‘sides, the Malfoys pay that off every month anyway, so it works just great for me!”

“Are you two on friendly terms?”

Stan actually snorted. “Well, he’s the only customer I have that keeps coming back! We do exist for stranded wizards after all, so we don’t normally see the same face twice!” 

Ron nodded absently. He went to the back of the bus and sat himself down on the rusting metal, glancing around him and bracing himself for the trip Harry said it had been. 

A sharp jerk to his right and then forward had him clutching his next and squeezing his eyes shut. He tightened every one of his muscles as the bus jerked and shrunk, completely unnoticed by the muggles. Then he heard a distinct shout from the elderly driver sitting up front. 

“Where to?”

He gritted his teeth, barely managing to choke out, “Malfoy Manor!”

Then he was being whipped around again. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, not having enough strength to bring them up to his chest, and leaned forward balancing and trying not to fly into the walls of the bus. 

How did Malfoy do this every time? This was awful. 

His whole bod swung this way and that, blurring colors passing by at top speed through the windows, before he was jerked so harshly forward he slammed onto his knees on the floor, earning a grin from the conductor as he walked to him. 

“First timer, eh?”

Ron swallowed. “Yeah,”

He shook his head side to side to rid himself of some of the whiplash as the man called out, “Cokeworth! I repeat, we’ve arrived at Cokeworth!”

The sleeping couple pulled themselves up groggily, dropping a couple coins into the bucket by the door on their way out. 

He saw the old driver peak into the cup, probably making sure they left the correct amount. 

Ron slowly slid himself back onto the seat, wincing at him. “Don’t you charge different amounts for each place?”

An unfamiliar voice answered him. “Well of course not! We work for helping stranded wizards, it doesn’t matter if you need to go from Germany to the Americas we’ll take you!”

Ron looked around curiously. “Eyes up to the front of the bus, freckles!” 

He snapped his attention to the old man, but found no female next to him. “Uh...”

“I’m hanging just above where your eyes are!”

Harry hadn’t said anything about a floating head. That seemed like a crucial detail to leave out. 

“Blimey! A little warning of what I’m going to be seeing next time!” he snapped, still trying to fix his sore neck unsuccessfully. 

The conductor clapped his hands. “Enough chatter! We’ll be heading to Malfoy Manner next, since its closer to us then where she’s heading.” he stuck his thumb out to the girl curled up on her side.

Ron nodded numbly. He felt strangely awkward being all on his own for the first time. He usually had at least Harry with him, or one of his siblings. 

Then the bus was off at top speed once more. Ron was thoroughly more prepared this time, clutching onto the chair unabashedly and digging his feet onto the bottom of his bench. 

When the bus whizzed to a stop, Ron had to admire what he was seeing. 

The mansion before him was breathtaking. Two long perfectly shaped hedges made a path to the large door way of the Manor, which was practically an ancient castle. Ron still felt the sense of foreboding that followed looking at his family’s worst enemy’s dark magic invaded house, but overall was stunned by the sheer mass of the building. 

It was almost the same size as Hogwarts, he’d reckon. 

A head slid next to his. “Magnificent, isn’t it? A Its almost too good to be true. First time at your friends’ house?” 

Ron nodded. The conductor straightened his back, resting his hands on his hips. “Well off you go, our service just picked up another call we’ll have to get to after dropping the kindred lady off. Go one, shoo, shoo.”

Ron stumbled to his feet, opening the door to the bus and hopping outside, remembering his trunk only as Stan heaved it onto the ground next to him awkwardly. 

Before he could wave goodbye, he bus was gone. 

He turned towards the Manor, startled upon seeing a houself at the gates. 

“Mistress has informed me to get your bags for you, and to tell you she be waiting for you in the entrance hall, Young Substitute Master Malfoy.”

Ron could only nod as he passed the elfs his trunk. 

His mind whirred. It still ticked him off Malfoy’s parents couldn’t be bothered to pick their son up after having not seen him since the summer. 

His distaste for the family grew. 

The house elf apparated back off to what was probably a guest bedroom as they wouldn’t want him meddling in Malfoy’s stuff; reminding him he actually had to go into the crazy murder house that awaited him. 

He groaned as he trudged up to the house, eyes wide as he stared at all the fountains and statues that were around the large gardens. I mean, he knew Malfoy was rich, but this...? It put a whole new perspective on Malfoys lifestyle. 

He footsteps were soft on the trimmed and even grass of the Malfoys house, but turned into a small clacking noise as they descended the cobblestone stairs that led to the door. 

It was eerily silent for the outside, not a single owl or cricket making any noise.

He had a feeling that didn’t come naturally. 

He arrived at the front door to the Manor, feeling small and insignificant in comparison to something so bold and intricate. In a slight rush he carefully rapped with the black knocker on the round wooden door that would grant him access to the large castle. He couldn’t help but notice the black knocker had a very realistic looking snake curled around it. 

This was starting to freak him out. 

The door opened and an imperious blonde woman stood infront of him. 

She gave a curt nod, “Mr. Weasley, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Narcissa Malfoy, the mistress of both the Black and Malfoy family lines. I do hope you feel welcomed.”

She swooped her arm out in indication for him to enter the room, placing her other hand coyly on her hip. 

This was Malfoy’s mother?

She looked regal and dominating in her clear youth, light blonde hair swished to the side and pretty blue eyes staring down at him expectantly. And yet, for the first time, Ron instantly disliked her kind of attractive. 

It sent his whole body reeling, she just seemed to ooze intimidation. 

She raised an eyebrow in irritation, and he suddenly realized he was still standing dumbly in her doorway. He walked through in a hurry, glas to be away from the cold that seemed to surround the outside and into the warmth-

It was fucking freezing in here. 

He glanced around, but could not see any windows opened. 

“The house elf will take care of your coat and what not.” She waved a dismissive hand toward a ragged elf to the side, who looked down obediently. 

He slowly slid off his coat and leaned down to press it into the elf’s warm hands. For an instant, panic flooded him at giving a house-elf clothes, but the elf was unfazed and just accepted the coat in unabashedly. 

He heard a derisive laugh from beside him, and saw Mrs. Malfoy holding a wineglass in one hand and clutching her black wool shawl around her neck in the other. 

“Its convenient they can do that now. We had a mishap with one of our other brutes and changed our contracts with them. Now they will only be set free if we specifically do so, willingly.” 

Her lip curled as she tugged off her thin shawl and tossed it in the air, the elf scurrying to catch it. 

An instinctual distaste settled in him at the behavior she demonstrated, probably stimulating from Hermione. 

She fiddled with her gloves. “Well then, are you going to introduce yourself or not? It ruins the whole point of this conquest to have me referring to you as Mr. Weasley, yes?”

“Oh! Er, right—“ he held out a shaky hand, “Ronald Billius Weasley at your service.”

She held up her hands, “The gloves dear, they’re white and you haven’t washed.” She motioned to his greasy hands apprehensively. 

He let his hands fall down to his side. “Is that a rule here?” he questioned, scuffing his feet awkwardly against the ground. 

“Is it not a rule in your house? To wash?” she looked aghast. 

“No its- of course I wash! I was just wondering if you were a germaphobe or something...”

She raised an eyebrow. “Now I know your messing with me. I am absolutely positive ‘Germaphobe’ is not a word, not in Wizarding nor muggle terms.”

He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Seriously? You are just like Malfoy. Look it pretty much means you’re afraid of germs or something.”

She pursed her lips, setting her glass down on the side table beside her. “I don’t understand! Doesn’t everyone find being sick or dirty distasteful?”

He shook his head slowly. “You have so much to learn.” Then he continued to look around him. 

The room was about as big as their house in its self, two large stairwells curling up to a hallway with a huge, glassy chandelier above it. The carpet that he was definitely not standing on in these muddy shoes was polished and fine, not a single scruff in the floor that indicated it had even been walked on. 

“It’s quite nice so far, isn’t it? I’m refurbishing it, with Draco darlings and Lucius’ help, of course, although I wish I had a larger budget. Lucius is having trouble accessing his secondary account at gringots, trouble with the goblins.”

Ron took a second to marvel at how casual she made this all seem, before questioning, “Where is Mr. Malfoy anyway?”

She gave him a startled look. “Lucius probably won’t be back until dinner, why, does Arthur get home earlier?”

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his dads name leaving her mouth, but he was pretty sure he didn’t like the way she practically purred while saying it. “Usually, likes to greet us and be home before so he can talk with mum and all.”

He smirked as she faltered slightly, clearly expecting to anger him with the jab at his dad not working much. 

She quickly regained her composure though, motioning towards the hallway covered by two large oak doors, finely carved and more expensive than anything he’s ever even touched before. 

“Shall we move to the sitting room to finish our chat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Tell me what you thought in the comment section!
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	7. I'm okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome. 
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "There is a good in the front of my class, I swear I've never seen do anything but laugh. She's tall and she's smart, beautiful and strong, and when someone's down she tries to fix what is wrong~  
> How can someone so perfect, feel so insecure, as to scar her skin with cuts and burns and still want to hurt more..." -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome. 
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "There is a girl in the front of my class who I swear I've never seen do anything but laugh. She's tall and she's smart, beautiful and strong, and when someone's down she tries to fix what is wrong~  
> How does someone so perfect, feel so insecure, as to scar her skin with cuts and burns and still want to hurt more..."

Draco sat his bag down on the floor, overwhelmed by the scuffle of the house unlike anything he’d ever witnessed. 

The twins were currently attempting to steal a very large chocolate cake from where it was hovering beside molly Weasley, and enchanted bag smoothing milky icing over the top. Ginny Weasley was trying to sneak into a closet where Molly had confiscated her broom, sternly magically locking it. A rat was scuttling around impatiently on the floor, clearly waiting to be fed, while all of the Weasleys were shouting at each other in irritation. 

On top of it all, the doorbell had just rung. 

He felt awkward trying to tell them that someone was impatiently ringing the bell repeatedly, because his voice was smaller than theirs by miles, having never been raised to that volume at times other than when he was in pain. 

He felt phantom shocks travel up his back at the thought. 

So he took it upon himself to hop around the messy bags that were giving him way to much anxiety, and peel open the door. 

“Finally! What is so important that you couldn’t even open the door for me!” a man with flat red hair draping over his eyes, and both ears pierced with black studs stood before him. 

He looked at him, as if startled to see him. “Oh, are you the new guy?”

Draco nodded, stepping aside to let him in. “I’m Draco.” He held his hand out to the man.

“And I’m Bill Weasely, the oldest and most handsome of the Weasley brothers, pleasure to see mums new victim, I’d watch my back, she has a history of kidnapping. I insist it’s what happened to me, as my fabulous attitude had to have come from somewhere.”

He took his hand in a firm grip, with Draco returned almost instinctively, having grown up giving plenty of handshakes. 

He put his hands on his hips. “Well, it seemed like their occupied. Want to give me a hand with these bags? I’ll show you where we keep them.”

Draco squared his shoulders and gave a tight nod, “Yes sir,”

An indignant sound came from the back of Bill Weasley’s throat. 

“NO, none of that! I am not a ‘sir’, nor will I ever be a ‘sir’.” He shuddered dramatically. 

Draco tilted his head in confusion, but picked up his a handful of the Weasleys bags anyway. 

He was lead to the upstairs, where many hallways were linked to a lot of closed off doors. He was dragged into each one, dropping off the Weaselys bags respectively. It took them a good three trips to get all of them in the right place, but at the end he was feeling much better that they were all cleaned up.

“So I’m assuming Ginny did the thing she said she was planning on doing in her letter?” he asked, giving him a side glance as he straightened pillows. 

Draco stood their awkwardly. “Yes si-“ he shook his head. “Yes, that’s right, if you’re referring to your sister flying to the train station.”

Bill Weasley groaned. “Is this- is this going to be a thing? Because I am never letting you call me that, and you can just right off dad letting you refer to him as ‘sir’ he gets enough of that at the ministry,” he then stretched and let out a yawn. 

“Bill! Oh honey, I’m so glad you’re here!! Oh, come on give your mother a we’re not strangers!”

He chuckled lowly as he wrapped his arms around his bother waist, leaning down to accommodate her height. 

“Bills here?!” a couple set of footsteps and then all of them were taking turns receiving hugs from their brother. 

A pang of something like jealously slung him hard in the stomach and throat. 

He wanted his family to be like that, to be that happy to see him. 

“Nice going there, Ginny, you managed to outdo me and the twins in creative ways to get our brooms confiscated.”

He was socked in the arm hard by his mother for that statement. “I should have known you were helping them encourage her!” She glared harshly at him. 

Draco slunk behind them slightly, knowing very well he was about to become the center of attention. 

“I see you’ve met Draco?” she asked rhetorically, butt Bill nodded anyway. The twins shot each other looks Draco wasn’t sure how to intercept, but noticed that they had been doing a lot of that lately. He was suspicious this was due to his presence. 

“Well, I was just about to ask him if he’d like some cake?” she addressed the question at him. 

Indignant yells instantly shot from the twins and grumbles from Ginny. 

“What??! We don’t get cake early but he does!”

Molly shot them a glower. “Draco is a guest. So?” she prompted. 

“No thank you, I’m not very hungry, mam.” 

She threw her hands in the air as she stormed back into the kitchen. 

“Nonsense! Enough with this polite façade and come eat some cake, your much to thin anyway!” he heard a snort from each of the siblings.

“You say that about everyone, mum.”

“Well if it applies to everyone, how am I not to offer them some cake?” she waved her wand and the cake set itself back down onto the counter, a knife presenting itself to her. 

He had no idea how she was so good at charms. 

Draco searched for a way out of eating the cake, the guilt from the cupcake still too raw to eat another desert. “R-really, I’m fine, Mrs- Molly, mam, I just don’t particularly care for cake.”

A bold faced lie if he knew one. 

She paused. “Then what do you like? We can get you some pie! Everyone likes pie!”

Draco swallowed hard. “Urgh, I don’t-“ she cut him off, 

“Come on! We’ve got all kinds of good stuff, just choose something!” she looked eagerly at him. 

Draco could see the disastrous comings that would follow him eating his cake, all the way up to the part of him being caught purging and then he wasn’t sure what their actions would be. He did not fancy that scenario. 

“Look, I was trying not to sound rude, but my actual mother would never let me have those deserts. She’s a bit of a health freak, If I know one.” He tried, bouncing his knee anxiously. 

She paused, putting down her knife with a pout. “But...it’s a special occasion.”

“My mother’s not strict on a lot of things-“

Just how I live me life, 

“But healthy eating is one of them. And believe me, I’m a no too shabby at lying, she just knows these things. Call it a mother’s intuition, but she can always tell when I’m hiding something.” He laughed for effect. 

Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms huffily. “Will she let you have anything? What about some good old caramel apples?”

He laughed genuinely. “Do you have normal apples? Or are they just contaminated with caramel?”

She sighed. “What about candied apples?”

He clasped his hand firmly on his mouth threw his laughs. “Mrs. Weasley!”

Bill Weasley jabbed in. “Huh, maybe I do get my fabulous attitude from you, mum!”

He exclaimed, looking at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. 

Draco felt himself get wrapped up in the playful banter, “Or perhaps your distant Malfoy and Black relatives. I’ve heard their quite snarky.”

George (he was pretty sure) laughed, slapping his knee as he seated himself on a bar stool and Molly Weasley stared dejectedly at a lone plate with just an apple sitting on it. 

“Who knows? Maybe if we followed the family tree we would be your grandparents, Draco.”

Draco blinked. “You know...that’s actually not impossible.” He acknowledged. A new round of laughter swept around the room. 

The next few minutes passed on in peace, with Molly grumbling about apples and Draco trying to explain that he couldn’t just eat an apple for dinner, and no he would not have her chicken breasts with the apple that destroyed the whole point of eating healthy. 

They twiddled with the idea of Fred and George being his grandparents, laughing hard when Ginny hobbled over and whacked him on the head, calling him ‘sonny’ in a faked old lady voice. 

Thy laughed harder when they realized what she was using as a cane. 

She had gotten past Molly’s wards and found her broom.

“Wait- no way- you did not!” he fumbled with words because they were hard, ok? 

Molly’s face flushed. “You little brat! I can’t even imagine!”

After that they seemed to realize he didn’t even know the basics of cooking or how to perform charms, so spent the rest of their time activating fast pace cushioning charms as glasses fell from the hovering in the air and onto the ground. He had helped with the lasagna, nearly falling over as he picked it up with muggle oven mitts on since molly didn’t trust him with the charm that made sure nothing could burn your hands (at a reasonable temperature). 

He decided he liked Molly Weasley, even if she was intimidating. 

“Hello Molly, my wonderful fair maiden!”

A new man, who he knew to be Arthur Weasley, swept into the room, bringing with him the end of Draco’s ability to speak. 

He wondered if he was the good sort of dad. 

He wondered if he would be able to tell what the good sort of dad was. 

He assumed he wouldn’t be able to. 

Percy Weasley stumbled after his father, looking slightly harassed but relatively happy. Draco found himself shrinking back further. 

He hadn’t had any time today to just breath, and while he could honestly some parts had been fun, cold dread washed over him any time someone slapped him on the shoulder or nudged him in the side. He needed everyone to stop touching him. 

But with a very intimidating, very clearly fatherly person entering the room, Draco found that need increased tenfold. 

His skin itched and he kind of wanted to stop eating and just throw up. 

“So you must be the lad Percy was telling me about! Nice to finally meet you, I’m Arthur!”

He didn’t suppress the flinch as the man’s hand came down for a shake, nor the way his eyes lowered and his shoulders hunch as he took it. The actions were all beaten into him, more out of fear than respect. 

He swallowed thickly, all too relieved when the man’s hand slid out of his grasp. 

“Hello, Mr. Weasley, I’m Draco.” He forced his tone into politeness, but didn’t meet his eyes as he took another bite of his peeled apple, irritated beyond words that it was in slices because now he’d have to eat the peeling of the apple separately from the actual apple. 

Arthur’s smile faltered, but Draco couldn’t tell you why for the life of him. His father hated it when he engaged in a conversation with him, so he had kept it brief and short.

Molly clapped her hands. “Ah, well, Arthur, just in time for lunch, you better eat seconds because our guest does not appreciate good food!”

Draco had long since learn to not be annoyed with disapproval, and instead strive to make what upset them better. But he did not understand why him eating healthy would annoy her. Perhaps it was because she worked hard on the meal and didn’t want her money to go to waste? That was probably it. 

“So, Draco,” it was Ginny who addressed him, pulling out her chair around their scratched up dining table so she could sweep under it, her punishment for trying to find her broom. He believed the logic had been,

‘If you like brooms so much you can actually put one to good use! I don’t want to see a spot on the floor, missy!’

“After lunch usually we would all play a family muggle game. It helps us learn of their culture and dad always picks us the strangest of activities form work. You don’t mind do you?”

Draco rubbed his neck. If his parents ever found out about this, he would probably be thrown outside into the endless cold snow for the rest of his summer. 

All the more reason to do it. 

“That sounds like an experience. Although I must warn you, I don’t know a single thing about muggles. I’ll probably be no good at these games.” He turned to Fred and Percy, “And I am kind of expecting revenge for exploding snaps, so...”

Ginny looked between in horror. “You guys were playing exploding snaps? And you let Draco win? George, how could you? Fred and Percy I expect, but you, George? You let me down.” he bit into an apple to stifle his awkward sounding laughter. 

George looked at her in irritation. “I’ll have you know, me and Draco were both the ultimate winners of Exploding snaps! We won and those three teamed up against us!”

“Ron played too? And lost? Disappointment is the only emotion I am feeling right now. If I was there, it would’ve been a complete game changer.”

Draco heard a laugh behind him and would’ve never anticipated the clap on his shoulder. He jerked forward, the cup in his hand sliding out of his grasp and slamming into the floor with a thud. He froze. 

His breath stuttered as his brain short circuited. 

“I- I’m so sorry- I can-“

He fumbled his eyes blown wide and panic attacking him from all sides. 

They were all so nice, and he had ruined it. they were going to be angry and who knew what they’d do what if they got hurhurthurt just like his mother, just like his father-

The hand on his shoulder reminded him to much of his father’s firm grip, his father’s warning grip. 

His fathers cane. 

His back stung with phantom pain. 

-AhandcoolygrippinghisshoulderbloodslidingdownhislegspaininalldeirectioNSCRUCIOcrucio  
CRUCIO-

His father in general; loving in public but not at home please make it stop-

“Oh, it’s alright dear, just an accident! Let me get something to pick that up- oh! Will somebody get that rat! We don’t want him in the glass!”

He wished he could say that his panic edged away. 

“You- you’re not mad?” he blinked owlishly at her, his lips numb as he spoke. He was startled by the realization he just broke one of her expensive glasses and she wasn’t even angry. 

That couldn’t be right, she was just taunting him. Drawing out the inevitable when it would star to hurt-

“No, no-“ an abrupt gasp cut her off. “Dear- your, your foot!”

Draco looked down. 

His bare right foot, (which was apparently common in this house instead of polished shoes or silky socks like in his), was matted in small shards of glass. 

He hadn’t even realized the glass had shattered on his foot, when he startled he had uncrossed his leg and his foot must’ve jerked to the outside of his chair. 

Drops of blood was staining their floor, and only then, noticing the red color, did Draco recognize the pain. His panic was replaced by pain. He let out a groan. 

He had had a lot of glass shattered on him before, though, so it was familiar in a chest tightening way. 

“It could be worse, I s’posse...” was the brilliant response he had to his current situation. 

He was still surprised she wasn’t mad he had broken her cup. 

Fred and George jumped up, and only then did he notice they had been sent out to get rags and a dust pan. 

Ginny was cringing away from his foot. 

“Could be worse?! Yea well, it also could be better! Why are you still holding your foot in the pile of glass!”

Draco winced. “Er—I, yea, I should probably move that...”

His voice had reverted back to its usual defensive tone, small and hardy there, meek and distasteful on so many levels. He was pretty sure he had just had some form of attack three seconds ago. 

“Oh! Don’t be so calm, someone do something!!” Mrs. Weasley glared at her family members.

Percy jumped into action, waving his wand with a quick Tergeo charm on the blood which made his foot sheet white and completely disinfected until drops of blood began staining it again. 

He leaned down, dodging the glass. “Here, let me just- I know some healing spells, I think I can do this.” He mumbled, shuffling carefully on his knees and grabbing his ankle as he lifted the foot, minful not to jar any of the glass out and hit a vein. 

“Remove speculo!” he said in a clear voice, and Draco watched in fascination as the glass just slid down his foot, like water dripping off of smooth skin, before Percy’s hand gently smoothed over the cuts that were beginning to bleed out quickly. 

“Cura minor,” then with an upward motion of his wand, each small cut on his foot was scabbing over. 

Percy looked up at him with a grin. 

He heard clapping. “Good job Percy! I always forget you’re interested in healing spells!” Arthur applauded. 

Draco looked up at him after examining his foot got disturbing. “You have got to teach me that.”

Percy beamed. Arthur Weasley hurried over with his wand. “Well, we still have some glass to clean up, we’ll check out his foot after!” 

Then he was being helped up as if he couldn’t stand on his foot by Ginny, who lead him far away from his chair and onto a small stool at the other side of the room. 

He sat down. 

“Ha, you didn’t even flinch when that glass hit your foot. Your way tougher than me, I would’ve started balling immediately. That glass did you pretty bad, good thing Perc’ was there. Do you think you’d be able to cast the healing charms?” she rambled, looking at him in concern and breathing rapidly. He remembered what had happened in second year and winced. Bloody writings on walls must be triggered by the sight of blood, then, she was probably just not expecting to see something that would take her back to being held under the imperious. 

Draco hummed both sympathetically and curiously. “I don’t know, they’re not dark are they? I guess I could always try. It’d be quite helpful when you live in my house, I come across scary things all the time. It’s why I gave Ron that list, I sure do hope he actually reads it.”

Ginny looked over to the bustling family with a quirk to her mouth, “Yea, I suppose it must be odd for you to be here. I mean, your house is practically Hogwarts castle. You may never find every room! But our house’s tour can be given by walking through the door and pointing where all the rooms are.”

Draco closed his eyes. “It is different. A lot more like a home than the manor.”

Ginny’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I never thought of that.”

Ginny yawned, resting him with a stern stare. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He held out his foot to her. “I’m better, I promise, see?” 

She nodded skeptically. 

After a moment of watching Arthur try to just spell the glass away but only end up sending the shards flying across the room, he turned back to her. He desperately racked his brain for conversation. 

“Why did you fly your broom here instead of use the train?” Draco scooted softly, resting his numb ankle gingerly across his other foot.

“Oh you know; adventures out there.”

He glared at her. “You’re not telling me something.”

She shifted in her seat. “So I found this book just a few days ago, it’s a diary of sorts I think.”

Draco nodded, turning more towards her in interest. 

“At first I thought it was funny, because a similar occurrence happened last year. But then I noticed the book had all these locks set in place, and I couldn’t open it no matter what I did. I brought it to Fred and George but they couldn’t figure it out either. Percy couldn’t find who it belonged to even though he had access to the other prefects, so he didn’t know. The only thing about the book that was distinguishable was the expensive black leather.”

Draco felt a sneaking suspicion he knew what book this was. 

“And well, I wanted to take it to a professional. I knew I had no chance to sneak out over the Christmas hols to do it, so I took my chance here.” She bit her lip. 

“The sad thing is, the guy I took it to said he had seen locks like this, and knew it could only be opened with the persons magical signature. It’s kind of sucky, isn’t it? This cool mystery ends because the only way to open it is by finding the person themselves, and I can’t just go by expensive black leather, can I?”

That was his book. 

But lunas cauldron literally exploded! It couldn’t be!

And not a single scratch was around the room. 

“Ginny, where did you find this book?”

“In an old cauldron outside, it looked like it was being thrown out but I thought it was in perfectly good shape. So I just assumed ‘why not’ and found the book in it. I will say it again, funny because of last year’s circumstances.”

Draco laughed into his hand. She looked at him curiously. “What? I don’t understand? What’s so funny?”

“That book you found...it’s mine.” He grinned at her.

She opened her mouth in shock. “nO! No way! Are you sure?? Out of everyone in the world!” she leapt to her feet. “No! No no NO! You’re proving it! I’m getting the book!”

 

\------

 

Ron shuffled awkwardly as a house elf was summoned to bring them warm tea and biscuits with honey. The elf was also bringing him a pair of white socks so he didn’t mess up their rich person floor. 

He was seated on a luxurious white leather couch, surrounded by large windows and fnac black curtains that turned into rose petals or something at the end. 

It freaked him out how much money they could throw at their furniture. 

“What kind of tea do you like?” her voice was smooth and soft, yet with a distinct awareness to it that made him question her so far oblivious attitude.

“I don’t usually drink tea, so anything but the green one Malfoy drinks.” He felt kind of weird using his last name to someone with the same last name. 

She gave a simpering laugh, crossing her legs, but he would bet money (money, like real galleons) that if they weren’t crossed so purposefully he would have a perfect view in between them. 

Shall he say (think) it again? Was this woman really Malfoy’s mom?

She certainly didn’t act like a mom, but then again, who said anything about his mom being a typical mom? Maybe this was the normal behavior for pureblood women.

It was reminiscent to how the Parkinson girl acted. 

The house elf popped in, sat the tray on the low table in between them, bowed low, and popped back out. It was definitely Hermione’s anger he was feeling. 

Mrs. Malfoy picked up a thin wooden box that had to sides that slid open, a wood leaf resting in the middle of them. She snapped the wood leaf in half, allowing her to open both sliding sides of the box. She flipped through the bags of tea inside. 

“Alright, so we have Tienchi Flower, Silver Tips Imperial—that one’s divine— Da-Hong Pao—oh, you wouldn’t believe the story of how we got our hands on that—and, of course, since we’re excluding green tea; only here because Draco darling insisted we put it in—Panda Dung tea,” she shuddered delicately for dramatic effect, a hand to her throat in disgust. 

Ron snorted. “That’s it. That’s the one I want.” She looked at him in horror. 

She leaned over to him, one hand beside her mouth, her voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s made out of the droppings of a Panda!” she sat back looking at him pointedly, horror clear on her face. 

He gave her a Thumbs Up, “Oh, yea. Adventures out there, right?” he had picked up that saying from Ginny. It worked as a pretty good reason to do things when you didn’t exactly no why you did them. 

She hesitantly picked up the bag of tea leaves. “Oh, alright...it is supposed to be healthy...somehow...” she set the tea bag in the boiling water, then placed her own tea bag in her cup. She picked up the little saucer his cup was on and passed it over to him, warning him briefly of the heat it emanated. 

He closed his eyes as he took a sip, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as he had imagined. It was in some need of sugar, though. 

“So, what do you and Malfoy usually do at this point?”

Mrs. Malfoy sat her cup down, smiling at him with bright eyes, “Oh, well, after chatting a bit he would usually now go get dressed into his formal winter robes for around the gardens, and then he and I would go ice skating on one of the ponds outside. We’ve gotten quite good at it over the years.”

Ron nodded. “Did you hear that muggles were taking up ice skating? Apparently, some bloke used our spelled shoes out in public and a muggle tried to copy them. They use blades on the bottom of them instead, though.”

Mrs. Malfoy rolled her eyes. “How hard would it have been to call some obliviators to the scene? Honestly, some wizards...”

Ron shifted in his seat. “So are you guys good? Should I be worried? I don’t really skate; the spelled shoes required for it are hard to get your hands on.”

Mrs. Malfoy picked back up her tea with a giggle. After taking a polite sip, she smirked. “We are more than just good. In fact, by now he and I have aced 3 turns, and can get a couple good Axel jumps in too.”

Ron shook his head, picking up one of the biscuits. “I have no idea what those words mean.”

“It’s just ice skating terminology. A ‘3 turn’ is a one-foot turn with a change of edge that results in a '3' shaped tracing on the ice. And an ‘Axel Jump’ the only jump counted as a jump element that starts from skating forward. An axel jump has an extra half rotation, and as all jumps is landed with the skater gliding backwards. They are rather difficult to perform, surprisingly. Draco can do a backflip but don’t ask me, I am thirty nine after all. Those kind of things aren’t for someone of my age.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

Ron startled. “Malfoy can do a backflip?!”

 

\------

 

“Oh my god, this whole time it’s just been your diary?”

Draco shrugged his shoulders as he closed the book once more, a small laugh escaping the back of his throat. 

Ginny put a hand to her mouth and let out a muffled scream. “I did all of that and it was yours all along!!” 

George, Fred, Percy, and Bill all sent her amused looks. He was almost absurdly proud of himself for remembering each of their names. 

Bill grinned. “It’s kind of girly to keep a diary. I was banking on it being one of those 6th year fashion girls,” he teased. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Objects don’t have sexuality requirements, just because a percent says one gender does something more doesn’t mean the other gender still doesn’t do it.” he pointed out, crossing his arms. 

After Ginny had ran upstairs and forced the book into his hands, the other Weasleys had been sent off to the upstairs to hang out while the adults cleaned (and had private conversations about him) which then led to her current frustration. She had thought he had been lying about the book, which, he had no idea the goal in that. He had also learned that the Weasleys had another brother, named Charlie, who was hurrying to see all of them on their free time all the way from Romania. 

“I wonder how Ron’s doing with your mum and dad, Draco...” Ginny sighed, twirling her hair around her finger, apparently calming down from her previous annoyance. 

Draco rubbed his forehead in what seemed to be exhaustion. “I couldn’t tell you. Right now he’s probably only with Mother, though, Father doesn’t get off work from the ministry until just before dinner. I hope she’s not overwhelming him, she’s a very overwhelming person but I suppose all mothers are.”

Bill whistled, “Long time to be at work. When does he leave?”

“six o’ clock sharp. We all usually star our day at five, and eat breakfast just before he leaves.” He tried to keep the underlying distaste for this ritual out of his voice, and was pretty sure on some level he succeeded. 

“You gave him that whole list of dangerous objects; it kind of made me nervous. Are there really that many places he shouldn’t go?”

Draco straightened his back. “Oh yes, you should be very careful. There was one time where I walked into an old dungeon that was infested with heliopaths. I got into the paper for that one, most people don’t think they exist, but I know they do. They shoot fire at you and are horribly hostile. They managed to burn through the metal bars of the unused cages in there. It was incredibly traumatizing.”

Percy jumped. “Really? That’s insane! Your right, I thought helipaths were just myths!”

Something Draco didn’t like gleamed in Fred and Georges eyes. “Can you tell us where the heliopaths were?”

Draco found himself shrugging. “Sure, I could tell you where loads of stuff was. One time, I was just wondering the gardens, when I can across one of those old religious temples. Inside, the whole thing had been swarmed by bogarts! It was terrifying, a different fear appeared for each one. I ended up getting knocked out, to be honest. Not my best moment.” He rambled. 

The gleam in Fred and Georges eyes hadn’t disappeared. “Surely that type of thing is highly dangerous right? Have authorities ever shown up at your house?”

Draco blinked. He had never really thought about it. Funny, he knew so much about ministry laws and the thought that most of the stuff in the house was illegal had never passed his mind. He had just assumed they were all taken care of or they had permits for. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He blinked. 

“I...couldn’t tell you that. As for the authorities, well...they’ve never inspected our house until last year after they received Intel that something not right was happening. I didn’t really ever think about it, Fathers been accused of a lot of things. But-“ he sighed. “Names and money can get you out of a lot of unpleasant situations.”

He felt something akin to hope burn his throat, mixed with a burning dread that swarmed his senses. 

Bill fumbled. “Er- well, I’m sure its nothing so bad—“ he glared at his brothers sideways. “Right, you two?” he growled. 

Fred and George put on contemplating expressions. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. It doesn’t-“

“Really seem like a good situation if you ask us.”

Then they shrugged, and Draco would bet money they used leglimancy to connect their thoughts and actions as they do. 

Draco let out a long breath. 

There were a lot of things in that house that could give him a one way ticket to Azkaban. 

He was pretty sure he was one of those things. 

“I have to agree with them, Bill. I’m not here to argue my parents innocence and non-inked forearms, but I’m not here to openly admit to it either. This really could get them in trouble. The both of them,”

There was a silence after his statement. He looked down, biting his lip. This revelation could save his life, if played correctly. But then again who’s to say anyone will bring a case to the table against him, anyway? The whole Wizingamot was made out of his father’s deatheater buddies, after all. 

The awkward atmosphere was saved by the tapping of the door. 

“Hello my little bundles of trouble. I come bearing gifts!” A red haired man swung the door open. 

“CHARLIE!!”

Every member of the Weasley clan jumped up to greet him, bustling around excitedly. 

“Did you say gifts?”

“What type of gifts!”

Charlie pretended to sniffle. “What? Is my presence not a gift enough?”

Ginny squinted at him. “Are your presents not the gifts?”

He ran a hand down his face. “You misinterpret me.”

He clapped his hands. “Ah well, back to the gifts! I’ve got something for all of you-“

He pointed suspiciously at them. “—Equally! So don’t fight over it, alright?”

He picked up the trunk Draco hadn’t noticed the man had brought in in the first place and opened it up, holding it in a way that displayed it to each of them.

It was quiditch supplies, a special edition Draco had seen before that was only given out in a few remote places. It seemed Romania was one of them. Draco was impressed by the rarity of the gift, it must have cost him quite the pretty penny. 

Draco not for the first time today felt like the outsider he was. 

“WOW!! No way, are you seeing this!”

“You didn’t have to Charley!”

“We should repay you some at least!”

Draco felt bad for not understanding their enthusiasm. While he enjoyed quiditch, he played the game competitively only for his father. He would rather just fly on his broom and do tricks, not unlike Pansy’s thoughts on the game. Plus, not being impressed made him seem more like the rich asshole he was. 

He continued to gawk for a moment, before Percy remembered his existence. “Oh right, Charlie. This is Draco, the kid we told you about?” 

Charlie made a confused sound in the back of his throat. “I thought you guys didn’t like a kid named Draco? Was that a different guy?” he looked between them curiously. 

His siblings were all frozen. Draco took no offense to their opinions, having expected as much. Most people, even his parents, had a similarity in their viewing of him. How distasteful he was.

He pressed his palm to his mouth and laughed, hard enough to have his shoulders shaking and his eyes squinting. 

“I-it’s alright!” He managed to mumble into his hand trying and failing to not laugh. His mother always hated his laugh. It was either too high-pitch or too snorty. 

When he laughed normally it was faked and just the way his parents instructed it to sound. The way their child should sound when he laughed. 

“Awww! You guys talk about me! Well, do go on, I’d love—“ he clutched his stomach in his cackling. “—too hear all about it!”

They were all looking at him in embarrassment. “That’s not funny, Draco! You’re much more likeable than you lead on!” Ginny complained, flailing her arms around in a habit that she must have picked up from her mother. 

Draco smirked up at her through his bangs. “Ah, the thing everyone wants to hear about themselves. How they’re more likeable than the person assumed. Not likeable, but more than they thought you would be. A truly feel the love.”

Ginny glared at him. “Ugh! Well, what’s with that habit of yours anyway! Why conceal your laughter?! You have a nice laugh!”

Draco sobered up. 

“There’s a...multitude of reasons. I got an old injury in my throat that makes it kind of painful to laugh, for one. In always gets sore when overused. Laughing speeds that process up right quick.”

Draco thought of shoving his fingers down his throat, thought of screaming himself raw. Of course laughing hurt, it would to anyone. Besides, his mother expressed concerns about wrinkles as well. 

She looked at him, bewildered. “Now I know your lying! What could’ve happened to make laughing hurt!?” she crossed her arms and glared, though her earlier agitation was disappearing away. 

He honestly contemplated telling the truth. I have anorexia nervosa. Sounded dumb even in his mind, especially since he diagnosed himself. 

But he dismissed that thought. Instead he shook his head. “It’s not something I like to relive. But I can assure you it’s no lie, I have the swollen throat to show for it.” he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling cold and bitter from the memories. He usually strayed away from this subject, both mentally and conversationally. 

Charlie cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I’m Charlie Weasley, the most mature of us brothers, I say brothers because women tend to hate being called immature. I’ve learned from previous significant others.” He gave Draco a playful wink and shook his hand loosely, his fingers sliding against Draco’s. Draco could feel the outline of a ring under his hand, along with callouses of a hard-worker. 

Draco smiled at him before leaning into his hand and coughing a bit, trying to clear the saliva from his throat. 

“Alright, so I already asked the folks and they said if we’re careful we can go to the back and play with our new quiditch set!” Charlie sent them all finger guns. 

Ginny, Fred and George all whooped loudly, Percy shrugged, and bill just looked at his siblings in unveiled amusement. 

Charlie turned to him. “You know how to play, yes?”

“I do. I’m seeker for the Slytherin team. Although, it would be rather irresponsible of me to play, with the whole hippogriff fiasco still settling in. Madam Pomfrey said I should stay off the hand for a while, let the phantom pain disappear.”

Ginny booed loudly. “Come on! What kind of shit is that? From what I heard, it hardly scratched you! You just don’t want to lose.” she protested. Percy wheeled on her in shock, glaring at her for her profanities. 

He rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine, I guess I spend most of my time in the hospital anyway, might as well break my arm more.” He grumbled, standing up and stretching. 

George looked at him briefly. “You don’t have to play if it hurts, you know. It’s fine.”

Draco stiffened, turning to him. “No, no, I’m okay. It’s not the worst I’ve had, I can deal.”

He still looked skeptical. 

 

\------

 

Narcissa lead him through what felt like a maze of richness to Ron. 

She, apparently, was taking him up to Malfoys bedroom, which was about the distance of the Weasley property away. 

She strode up to an oak door, curved and fine, with the carved words, ‘Draco Lucius Malfoys Chambers’ finely printed on it. 

“Here’s lovelies room, just in there to the left you’ll find a closet. In there is Draco’s ice skating robes, yes?” Mrs. Malfoy looked at him expectantly. 

“Er, right yes...” she frowned disapprovingly. 

“Yes what?” she said snappily, her eyes narrowing into slits. 

“Uh, yes...Mrs. Malfoy?” her lip curled. 

“I’m afraid not. If your acting as Draco today, I’m expecting a ‘yes, mam’, understood?”

“Mhm...” his eyes went wide. “I mean, uh, yes mam...”

She sighed in frustration as she made her way to her own room, telling him a house-elf will help with the rest. 

Ron gently opened the door, preparing for something completely extravagant. 

What met him sent him gawking.

The walls were made of tiles, all colors of silver and black. One large window sat on the right corner of the room, a ledge under it for sitting, books and quills neatly sat beside it. Rugs of a feint green tone embroidered with silver sat grandly on the dark and sleek wooden floorboards. In the middle of the room a large bed sat, faux fur covers draped along the sheets, fluffed pillows in numbers he couldn’t count lined with silver pressed against the back. A black vanity with drawers and designs to his left next to the entrance, glass reflecting over his eyes from the small amount of sun peeking through the dark green curtains over the window. On a small table beside the bed, a low side table with a single picture of the Malfoys resting on it. 

“What the hell is this?”

He searched around for the closet, reminding himself what he was here for, eyes moving to the left of him just across from the bed. 

Dark wooden French doors met him, glass iced so he couldn’t see through. He tried to slide them open, expecting it to be smooth as this was the Malfoys they wouldn’t have any shaky furniture, but the door didn’t even budge.

“If I may?” a squeaky voice had him turning around looking down at the elf as if caught red handed. 

“Uh...” he replied intelligently. 

“The door requires a magical signature, Replacement Master Malfoy.”

He jumped, looking down at the elf in confusion. 

“Right, I knew that...but...I don’t have Malfoys...”

The elf shook its head. “No need to worry, in Young Master Malfoy’s drawer there is a bottle of magical signature ink that will do the trick!” he beamed proudly. 

“Where exactly is that?”

“Just in the vanity right over there!” the elf grabbed his hand and lead him back over to the mirror. 

He nodded at the elf. “Right, well, thanks...”

“Of course, any friend of Young Master Malfoys is a friend of mine. Just say the word if you need my help again,” And with a pop, the elf was gone. 

He looked back down. 

The vanity had an assortment of items resting on it, a small glass jar of cotton balls, medical tape, disinfectant potion, and a key. 

He picked up the key curiously. It morphed through his hand into smoke, the smoke travelling across the cabinet and back into its previous position. 

“Blimey, that’s some serious magic...”

He had heard of it before, a key that only works for its owner’s usage. It probably opened some secret thing or another, but Ron still had to complete the task of changing clothes for Godrics sake, so he opened the drawer on the side. 

It slid open, which made him breathe a sigh of relief because he had been thinking it might require the key on the table and that would just be his shitty luck. 

Inside the drawer was knicknaks, some quills, but it was mostly empty except for a curved bottle with a sticky tag on it. 

‘Magical Signature ink’

This kind of ink was binding magic, forbidden magic that he hadn’t thought was legal anymore. 

It used to be used to sign contracts, but the user of the inks magic was combined into the paper, making it impossible to break the laws abiding you. In this case, though, the magic signature hadn’t been captured through a quill, but captured by the ink itself, so Malfoys magical signature was swirling around inside a seemingly innocent bottle of ink. 

He supposed now he just had to open the door. 

He carried over the bottle of ink, not quite sure what he was planning to do. 

Maybe he should just wright open on the door and hope for the best. He decided that was plan Z when all else failed. 

He unscrewed the cap, glancing up at the sliding doors and noticing that the glass was iced, or fogged, he supposed. 

Maybe the magical signature had something to do with that?

“Uh...I need help...don’t really know how to use this...”

The elf popped back before him. 

“You just need to poor the ink in that tube there, where normally masters wand would go to open the door, don’t worry the ink will disappear after words!”

He looked at what he had been using as a door handle. It was a tube, one about the size of a wand, there was two of them side by side. 

“It doesn’t matter which one, give it a go!”

He poured the ink inside. There was a sound like compressed air being released, and then the glass un-fogged and he could see through it. 

He looked into the tube and saw that, yes, the ink had disappeared. 

He slid the door open, ready for anything this time. He would bet money Malfoys closet was even more impressive than his bedroom. 

He made sure to pocket the bottle of ink just in case. 

 

\------

 

Draco glared at the brothers around him heatedly. He was going to be wearing Ron’s quiditch clothes, it seemed, and they were much too big for him by the looks of them rumpled in his hands. 

He tapped his foot by the door, which was occupied by Ginny who insisted on changing first. The Weasleys only had one bathroom and it was beginning to be irritating. He didn’t ask why they all weren’t using the bedrooms like smart people and waiting for the bathroom, even though he was achingly curious. 

Ok, maybe he did ask. 

“Why aren’t we just using the bedrooms or something? Why must we wait for the bathroom to be opened when you have plenty of other good rooms?”

They all looked at him like it was obvious. “The bedrooms are all infested with magma-moths right now, except for the one we were just in before that Perc’ managed to save because of some weird charm he had on his bedroom. If we go in them, it’ll eat away at our robes and spew fire at us, right shock when we first saw ‘em, right George?”

“Right Fred, absolutely shocking.” His brother agreed. 

Draco whined. 

He opened up the quiditch robes in his hands, knowingly fiddling with the buttons, thinking of all the places he’d need to put temporary fitting charms on it. Along the middle-hip seam, for sure, he had very bony hips. 

Ginny walked out of the room, tying her hair with a band, leaving the door opened. 

He looked around them, wondering who was going to take the bathroom first, startled when they all walked in at the same time. 

“You coming?”

Draco nodded nervously. It was crowded, but luckily their one bathroom was moderately sized. He saw Ginny’s pile of clothes tucked haphazardly under a basin on the left and swiftly scooted it all the way under for her. 

He sat the robes down on the bench, contemplating how it was going to fit him. 

He felt fleeting panic as he lifted his robes above his head, but reminded himself al glamour charms were in check. He never changed in front of others. It was too risky for his taste. 

He saw his thin pale arms show back at him, as he removed the loose white undershirt of his robe with a yank above his head. 

He could definitely see his bones. And by the awkward shuffle behind him, they could too. 

“Woah, dude, mom was right on the whole meat on those bones thing, we’re going to have to use some serious shrinking charms...”

He took a deep breath and ignored them, unbuttoning his trousers and picking up the tighter fitting pants that Ron had, He noticed the loose fit around his waist and thighs, the way the pants slid down to his ankles and the cuffs around his feet swamped his shoes completely. 

He winced, grabbing his wand from the other compartment. 

He cast a spell he knew would work, that was only temporary. He may be shite at transfiguration and charms but only because he couldn’t do anything harmful. This wasn’t harming anything! 

The spell was encompassed the pants and they shrunk down to fit him correctly, if still a little baggy around his thighs. 

He grabbed the quidtich undershirt and repeated the process until finally he was comfortably wearing nice clothes that hid away his thinness. The last thing he did was tie on some loafers that were actually too short and wide on him, his feet being long and skinny. 

The awkward part was over. Percy nudged him in the side. 

“I think you should eat more than an apple and salad, man. Maybe you should grab some sort of granola bar before we play.”

Draco inched away from him. “I’m fine.”

And that was that. 

 

\------

 

Ron met up with Mrs. Malfoy on the elf’s instruction, which he’d learned name was Stepno. He added him to the list of elfs Hermione (not he) needed to free.

The robes hadn’t fit him, they were tight and way to long, so the elf fixed it up (temporarily, he insisted, and had gone into a full rant of how he’d taught Malfoy the same trick), and now he was wearing the most expensive clothes he would ever have the pleasure of making contact with. 

He had to admit, he looked odd. His red hair stuck out against the light silver of the outfit, and his freckles made it seem like he was from some porno, especially with the short hair tie he had just had to wear because the elf said it was Malfoy’s favorite way of keeping his blonder and softer hair away from his face. 

A dark black shirt tucked into white trousers and a short green robe that only made it to the wisps of his calves around his shoulders, a hood resting on his back and buttoned around his neck. It was like a cloak of sorts, he proposed. Let’s not forget the worst part, the sleek spelled black boots that curved around his feet, which came back to his original assumption of looking like he was in a porno. 

He itched at the arm guards on his forearm in agitation. These clothes did not suit him. 

“Oh, you look nice in those, much better than what you had before. Shall we go to the gardens? I’ve already cast warming charms on myself, would you like me to do the same to you?”

Ron was reminded bitterly of how cold he would be in these stupid outfits. If they were wearing normal people coats and hats then they wouldn’t be having this dilemma. 

He looked at what she was wearing. It was a short, tight dress that curved around her and showed off her, well, everything. It cut slightly at her waist to flare out down to her knees, the cloth still stiff but somehow looking much more free. Alike his (Malfoy’s), the colors seemed to be themed silver and green. 

He followed Mrs. Malfoy through winding path of staircases and halls, shivering ever so slightly even with her frequent casting of the warming charm. He found his feet had turned numb by the time he had gotten downstairs, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. 

“Why do you keep it so cold in here?” 

Mrs. Malfoy shrugged a prim shoulder. “Yes, I see you’ve noticed. It is the magic that was long ago cursed on the grounds, summer never lands in this area, only winter. It happened around the time Draco was born, we suspect it means his magic is strong and will make a change for the better of the Malfoy and Black legacy. With his presence came this chill that never seems to go away. I don’t mind though, I rather enjoy the cold.”

Ron thought this was strange. He had heard of children being born and magic being activated instantly, but this was damn strong magic to have activated at his birth. There was one case where a young girl was born and along with her came the ever sounds of music. No matter where she went there was always a melody with her, another case where a young boy could appariate accidently anywhere he wanted. Just poof, and the parents would be on the chase for their child once more. 

With Draco came a winter that never ended. 

They came across the first wooden door from the entryway once more. 

Her finger curled around the handle as she pushed the door, holding it open for him as well. 

Chilly air filled his lungs and made his body freeze once more. 

“That over there, used to be completely thawed, water flowing freely, now? It’s frozen solid.”

She pointed her gloved hand to a small pond a distance away. “I don’t know whether to be afraid or excited of what Draco will bring to this family.” She smirked at him. 

Ron hurried after her surprisingly efficient strides, her height making her much faster than him. When Ron had seen it from the house, he had imagined it to be closer than it actually was. But they had to go through trees and along different paved paths and wooden posts, statues of previous lord Malfoys, until they finally came before the body of water. 

They stopped at the pond, a long expanse of water smaller than the black lake, but still impressive. She stretched long, before placing a foot on the ice. 

“What, aren’t you coming?” she held both of her hands out expectantly, smirking above her scarf. 

 

\------

 

Draco gripped the cleansweep tightly in his hands. Even if it wasn’t the standards he was used to, it did have character. Ridges and Ron’s initials carved into the broom, making it seem used and worn, not anything like something he owned. 

“Alright, so, what’s teams? we don’t actually have enough here for two full teams, so we’re only going to have a seeker, a designated captain, a keeper, and a beater on each team, ok? I will be sitting out as the referee.” Charlie announced with an air of superiority. He wondered why he was the leader when bill was clearly older. 

“Draco, George, Ginny, you will make up the first team. Ginny as seeker, George as beater, and Draco as keeper, and you will work the captain out amongst yourselves. Any objections?”

Fred and George glanced at each other and grumbled under their breath, but made no move to change the teams. 

“Percy, Fred, Bill that leaves you. Percy as seeker, Fred as beater, and Bill as keeper. Again, decide your captain in your own right.” He clapped his hands. 

“You have ten minutes for a strategy and captain decision making. Then, I release the balls in the air. Your time starts now!”

Draco couldn’t help but giggle at how intense they were all taking this. He had always been a competitive person, less so in games that required less active partaking on his part. But in a game like quiditch, he could always try his hardest because it never bored him. Each play and move was different, unlike how other games played out. 

He grinned to himself as he, Ginny and George all seemed to instantly have the same idea and rushed to the opposite side of their yard, where they wouldn’t be overheard. 

George raised his hand. “I, as the eldest should get to be captain.”

Draco thought that made sense, but was also expected by the other team. 

Ginny stuck her nose in the air. “My tactical maneuvers are much better thought out than yours, brother. I suggest myself to be the captain.”

Draco frowned. Would it be overconfident to suggest himself as captain?

“I have the opinion that it would be least expected if I were the captain, if I may.”

George glared at them. “When need somebody who knows the way this usually works, so not you. I clearly have the most experience.”

Ginny put her hands on her hips. “Excuse you? It is I who spends their time studying ways to beat Ronald in chess, ahem.”

“But if I were to take on the responsibility of being captain,” Draco cut in, “Then I could take both of your views into accounts therefore avoiding sibling rivalry and the chance George might let Fred sneak one by him.”

Ginny pointed to him. “Ohh! He does have a point. But, if you were to take position, you wouldn’t be able to read my brothers strategies as I way.”

“I object! I’ve played quidtich with them for a while now. Plus on the side, they probably know your way of thinking.”

“Guys I got it!” George triumphantly placed his hands on his hips. “We shall turn the title of captain into a partnership. Each one of us will handle a certain part of the field, so we can avoid fighting and confusion.”

Ginny rubbed her chin gravely then nodded. “I agree to these terms.”

“I see no other option.” Draco conceded. 

“So then I call taking up all decision on plans, I will create the strategies.” Ginny demanded. 

They nodded. 

“Shall I take the challenge of teamwork and passes, also in what ways to confuse the other team?” George suggested. 

He and Ginny exchanged a look before giving him a terse nod. 

“Then I will take up all advances on points, and spotting the snitch. In this type of game the snitch will mean less to us because of the higher chances of each team scoring faster, so we won’t want to focus too much attention on it until we’re secure in our points.”

George and Ginny held out their left and right hands. George leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s a handshake circle,” 

Draco inwardly snorted, locking his hands with theirs as they formed an odd circle and shook each-others hands dramatically and way too seriously. 

Then they all huddled together and formulated a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! the quote up at the top in my beginning notes is from a song called "Dark enough", I prefer the nightcore over the original but that is just my opinion. If you want to look up the nightcore version the person who posted it's name is "NightcoreGalaxy".
> 
> Tell me what you thought in the comment section!
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	8. I’m not fine, please help me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "The world is a dangerous place not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look at evil and do nothing."

Ron laughed as he scraped his fork along the expensive assortments of food on his plate. After he and Mrs. Malfoy had spent most of their time ice-skating, she had had him change (Again!) for dinner, where they were waiting for Lucius Malfoy to arrive. 

Narcissa laughed into her napkin as she wiped her face. “You were terrible at that! Draco would be disappointed, probably would drag you down there again after dinner and play professor on you. He always had a knack for ice-skating, even when he was little. I can still remember baby Draco in his little boots determinedly getting up again and again on the ice! He was so adorable...”

Ron had come to notice a pattern. Almost all of Narcissa’s conversation led back to Malfoy one way or another. It was no wonder the guy had an ego problem, sure mum always usually talked about them, but it wasn’t one of them singularly! It was all of them! All of their attention was on him, and Narcissa, not having to clean or work, had a lot of attention to give. 

He decided Narcissa was a kind woman, surely not the kind to hurt her child. She loved him far too much for that. In the way she knew his habits and quirks, his grades and friend’s, it couldn’t be abusive behavior or her just faking. The things she knew were only things someone deeply invested in their child would know. 

But Lucius was still on the table. And who knew? This woman could surely be on the ‘abused’ side of this spectrum. She surely fit the spot. 

“My super moves are unrivaled, thank-you-very-much. I mean that one time I ran off of the ice and into a tree? A marvelous trick,” she had to set her spoon down of her starter soup to stop herself from laughing. 

He had asked where all of the food was and she had explained they couldn’t start eating until he arrive, (See? That was just an asshole move), but they could have some before meal food like soup. He had gagged the first time he had slid the spoon into his mouth which made her laugh and explain it was some French dish with escargot and mushrooms and bleh. 

They had all the money in the world, and this was what they ate? No wonder Malfoy like green tea...

He ate his bread on the side instead, not bothering to dip it in the soup. He pushed the porcelain bowl away from him with a suspicious glare. He had been so hungry too, not having lunch and only that tea. Now it was dinner and he couldn’t even have dinner!

“Marvelous trick? I believe tricks are supposed to be purposeful.”

He held out both of his pointer fingers. “Shh...shh...I thought we were eating soup!”

She raised an eyebrow as she took another spoonful in. 

Then he heard another pop and saw that Stepno had appeared before them. “Master Lucius has arrived, Mistress.”

She set her spoon down, standing up gracefully. He just sat there awkwardly. 

Lucius Malfoy strode in with his chin in the air, long dark robes bellowing behind him. He made his way over to Narcissa, holding her chin delicately. “Good evening, Narcissa.” He planted a kiss on her cheek then strode to the head of the table, where he pulled out his chair. 

Before he sat down, he nodded at him. “Mr. Weasley, I hope you enjoy your time here.”

Then the man that infuriated him so sat himself down, the meal appearing before them.

 

\------

 

Draco could almost have an attack at the chaos around him. He had shrunk into a corner of the room and flinched every time someone shouted or ran across the room. 

It was awful. 

Everyone was loud and abrasive; somehow this was their dinner time so different from the Malfoy affair. It was polite and curt and made sense. 

This didn’t make sense. They were supposed to be all catching up but it seemed Ginny was having a very long and wild conversation with her father about school, the twins were still laughing about the quiditch game that had all just came in from, sweaty (and hadn’t changed clothes are at least washed up), and were reenacting their plays to each other. 

Draco focused his thoughts on the quiditch match. Their team had one by a landslide, because ginny hadn’t truly bothered to look for the snitch and just distracted the other seeker, making sure he and George could pretty much just combine their abilities to score points. Even though George was a beater, they all soon realized that no one got many chances to score, so they said everyone had the right to hit in points. 

Their down fall. 

Him and George outmatched Bill and Fred, so they just scored points while Ginny was prolonging the snitch being caught and hitting points past them left and right.

At one point, they had 250 points vs. 75, so even if they caught the snitch they wouldn’t win, which had been their whole strategy. 

Ginny stopped distracting Percy and started getting serious, searching for the snitch and catching it before Percy even noticed that was what she was doing. 

Fred, being the only real player on their team, had found their incompetence infuriating. He had eventually been playing both keeper and beater, while simultaneously pointing out where the snitch was to Percy. 

Charlie was just laughing at them the entire time. 

Bill bumped into him on his way to give molly a can of baked beans, causing Draco to stumble back further and try to appear invisible. 

It worked until Charlie found him. 

“Don’t like loud places?”

Draco startled. “Huh? Oh yea, no. This is terrible. Everything is happening at the same time.”

Charlie snorted. “Yea, it does take some getting used to. This family is kind of intense. I snuck some granola bars from the kitchen, you hungry?”

Draco shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Come on man, you only ate that salad and then you played quiditch, you need some food in you.” He held out the bar. 

He ate an apple too...

Draco winced, feeling his stomach churn in hunger. He gently grabbed the bar, noting the calorie intake before unwrapping it. He took a bite, chewing slowly. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “No problem.”

They sat in peaceful silence after that, which was only interrupted when molly called her son over to help with a heavy pot on the oven. 

Draco continued to chew on the bar willing himself to stop but knowing that he might pass out without anymore substance. He hadn’t ate breakfast today, hadn’t had a snack, and was only surviving on one glass of water. The salad and apple had just left him feeling hungrier. 

He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, black coating his vision, his head swimming as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

On top of it all, sleep had escaped him once again. He was glad he couldn’t remember the dream he had had, but he knew it had taken him ages to fall asleep, his body wanting to but his mind protesting vehemently about the nightmares. And then he had woken up so early, too, with no food, he could understand why he felt so sick. 

Still, he didn’t have any desire to gain an extra load of calories after struggling to not eat so much today, he wasn’t just going to throw all of that hard work away because one of the Weasleys passed him a granola bar. 

He inconspicuously shoved the rest of the bar into the trash can, leaving the wrapper in his hands so it appeared that he had eaten it. He threw a tissue over the food for good measure. Then he politely walked up to Charlie. 

“Excuse me? Where can I throw this out?”

Charlie looked at him, startled, before pointing to a trash can away from the one Draco had just used. 

He smirked, that worked out nicely. 

Each step was a struggle, his legs sore and heavy, his stomach protesting with every movment. He let the wrapper fall into the bin before turning around just in time to hear a loud-

“Watch it!”

He ducked to the ground as something soared passed his head, flinching volatilely. 

He heard a distinct smash. 

“Fred! Geroge! What in the name of godric do you think your doing!?”

He looked up shakily to see a distressed looking ginny glaring heatedly at Fred and George, who were frozen in ther spats with a- 

They were aiming at him! They were holding a muggle slingshot thing! 

“Salazar...you people are violent...” he mumbled spitefully under his breath, anger crawling its way to his throat. 

That had given him a heartattack. 

“We were only joking mum!” Fred tried. 

“Really, it was- it wasn’t dangerous-“

“Really? REALLY?! It wasn’t dangerous?! Do you want to tell me why our guest is currently on the floor and my coffee table is in pieces?”

Draco zoned out, surprised at his lack of reaction to her anger. But there was a heavy weight pressing his eyelids together that made him just want to curl up on the ground and let the problem escalate without his help to calm it down. He clutched a this head gently, turning around to see what they had thrown at him, not bothering to force himself to his feet. 

He recognized the object instantly.

It was a sponge?

Strangely, the anxiety still didn’t come; instead a rush of blankness filled his mind, dulling out the irritation into something cold and numb. 

His head still hurt. 

He absently thought about the fact a sponge was soaring towards his head and the twins had wanted that for some reason. 

Ginny looked at him and caught his eye. He saw something like humor glimmer in her eyes before she shifted her features into a sympathetic expression. She had undoubtedly had a part in this, then. 

He made sure his glare was at least acceptable in his current tired state. The chaos in the room hadn’t died down, now everyone was just talking even faster and his head was beginning to pound that much more. He struggled to get up with the help of two apologetic twins who didn’t look like they were actually sorry even as they said so. 

He felt trapped in his mind, the feeling stimulated from lack of food and sleep, and the collectable times the cruiciatus curse had been held just a bit too long on him was making his magic ache more than it usually did. All his muscles felt sore. 

He sat himself down at a seat with a small sigh, keeping his back straight methodically and practically peeling his eyes open. 

Draco waved off Ginny’s slightly worried slightly formed. “I’m just tired, no need to crowd on me so much.”

Then his vision fizzled black. 

He swayed dangerously as the light came back, but knew instantly that something was very, very wrong. 

Everything hurt. 

He rubbed his eyes against the now blinding light, trying to think of the cause. Because there was always a cause. Pain came with something that you did, it didn’t come randomly. 

He looked down at his legs first, checking for injury, then discreetly examined his arms. 

Not a single blotch marred his skin. 

He took a deep breath.

“Alright Mr. Healthy, what would you like to eat for dinner? We have a variety of odd things, I can just get them all out for you and you can pick off of them, how about that?”

Draco turned to Molly’s smiling face and gave her a tired smile back. “Yea, that sounds good. Thank you, Mrs. Weasely.”

She waved him off. “I thought I already told you dear, Molly is just fine!”

He nodded at her even as his stomach cramped and his eyes throbbed at the motion.

He took a deep, steadying breath. He could do this. 

He would do this. 

 

\------

 

Lucius Malfoy was just the kind of person Ron didn’t like. Arrogant, conceited, prejudiced, and had no care for any conversation in the room going on beside the ones that revolved around himself. 

Narcissa just simpered, her eyelashes futtering as she did exactly what someone in her position would loath. Every answer was coy, every response was awed, every conversation starter was timed and executed perfectly between them that Ron could’ve sworn they had rehearsed the lines before-hand. 

Ron popped in rudely most of the time, correcting them on falsified rumors that the profit was spilling and sharing his own bit of gossip, musing out loud just to irritate them the difference and similarities between his and their families. 

Then the topic of Malfoy came to play.

Ron watched carefully Lucius’s facial expressions, the tone of his voice as he spoke of his son’s grades. He addressed Ron for one of the very first times since he sat down.

“-and your grades, Mr. Weasley? How are they faring? My son noted you seem to have a knack for breaking your wands in a recent letter he sent.”

Ron ground his teeth together at the insult and passive aggressive behavior, his face flushing. “Hmm...well I replaced that old wand not to long ago so all is well in that department. As for school? I like care of magical creatures tons, we just did some cool projects on blast ended screwts last year, very interesting, if terrifying.”

Only then did Ron realize this was a very wrong thing to say. 

Lucius’ lip curled. “Care of Magical Creatures? Taught by that oa-“ he paused after ‘accidently’ insulting hagrid, “-half-breed that got expelled to Azkaban just last year? You have quite intriguing tastes, Mr. Weasley,” his lip quirked on the edge, his eyes gleaming with amusement. 

“Yes well, falsely accused, mind you. Turns out some guy names Tom Riddle is actually to blame for the whole thing! Poor Professor Hagrid, the ministry really should do more research before they imprison the innocent, and not just because it’s bad for the press.” He shoveled some of the disgusting green stuff into his mouth to make his comment look casual, but never let his eyes linger from Lucius’ grey ones. 

“I also heard of a current problem as of late? What was it again, Narcissa?”

“Our SON was attacked and mauled by one of Hogwart’s hippogriffs, Lucius.” Her tone was bitter and she hissed the words, the very first time all day she had turned truly angry. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips were pursed, both eyebrows rose as if challenging him. 

Lucius tilted his head. “Yes, well, it was quite a shame wasn’t it? Shall I inquire on the negative tone you have developed, Narcissa, or are you just going to pout silently without explanation?”

“Well, a husband should know about the injury’s his son sustained without having to ask his wife for confirmation, yes?” she tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Or do I have it wrong?”

Lucius huffed under his breath. “Honestly, Narcissa, the things you get upset over...your overreacting honey, if you wish discuss my presence in our sons life we can do it when we aren’t entertaining company.” Lucius took a sip of his wine, waving his hand, signaling he thought he was ending the fight. 

“Oh ho!” she snapped, setting her glass down with a click and making the liquid slosh out of it and onto the dining cloth. “Overreacting? Overreacting? I’ve seen you make more of a fiasco over your dirty laundry than the fact our son was attacked by a hippogriff and you didn’t bother to know the details!” 

Ron winced as Lucius raised his hand in dismissal. “Alright, woman! I’ll take care of it, are you satisfied now?”

Narcissa stuck her nose in the air. “Not truly, but I’ll say so just to end this wretched discussion.” She dusted off her lap with a loud sigh. “Well then, enough with this confrontation. Let us move back to your schooling, Ronald, yes?” she looked between the two of them imperiously.

“I take DADA,” Ron blurted out, “It’s taught by Remus Lupin, the guy who conducted this whole thing.” He waved his arms around at nothing, unused to having to be the one to fill the awkward silences, which were usually warded off by Harry. “He introduced a boggart a couple days ago. Neville managed to destroy it with one blow!”

Lucius and Narcissa shared a look. 

Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat. “The Longbottom boy? I thought he showed no magical prowess?” her head tilted in confusion. 

Ron felt indignation rise. “Late bloomer I guess,” he chewed on his tongue harshly. 

She took a small forkful of the meal before them, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I see. And what form did his boggart take?” 

Ron snorted rather rudely. She raised an eyebrow. He hurriedly cleared his throat. “Oh, ah- it’s actually become quite a joke at school. It took the form of Professor Snape?” she shook her head in amusement. 

“Ah well, then we can only assume it was a newborn boggart. Those types tend to show lesser evils to the victim. Too bad here at the Manor all of ours are fully grown, poor Draco has a different sort of heart attack every time he comes across one, especially when he’s been caught off guard.” She rolled her eyes good naturedly. 

“Yea, that’s what Professor Lupin said. ‘Makes sense, because I only saw a spider and Hermione saw a fail at the exams. Harry’s lesser fears, of course, are still exaggerated! He came across a dementor! What does Malfoy’s turn into?” he rambled. 

Mr. Malfoy hummed. “Ah yes well, speaking in lesser dementors I believe it turns into being disowned, which is an absolutely absurd notion. I told you not to show him that family tree of yours, Narcissa.”

She threw her arms in the air. “Oh, every things my fault! How was I supposed to know he would go all obsessive on us, Loves? He should already be ware he’s no Serius or Andromeda.”

Ron choked. “You mean like, Serius Black?”

She winced. “Yes, well, I did mention he was disowned, didn’t I? Disgraceful wizard, really.”

Ron frantically sat up in his chair, leaning forward. “Did you know him?”

Mrs. Malfoy had the gall to SCOFF. “Well of course I knew him, he was my cousin. If you’re shocked by that you should learn of my sister, Bellatrix Lestrange via Black.”

Ron sat back in his chair. “NO! Oohhh, my god, there’s just...you grew up with that? I can’t even imagine...!” 

 

\------

 

Draco nibbled at a pineapple Mrs. Weasley had cut for him. Around him was an assortment of fruits, apples, oranges, a small bowl of blueberries, and strawberries without their tops. 

He tried not to gag at the thought of eating them, his stomach demanding something without acid and actually filling. 

“Okay so me and Draco at this point were both zooming to guard our goals as George had to leave post since he was hitting Percy on top of the head with a bludger—straight on, I may add!—and we both get their at the same time and he literally hits the ball out of the way and right to me! So I’m heading to their post and that’s when Percy spots the snitch and fred is warding off Bill so I have to hit the quaffle BACK to Draco and go into a fronsci feint and catch the snitch just as the quaffle makes it through the goals!” Ginny rants on making excited hand gestures all the while. 

Draco snorts as he shoved some more grapes into his mouth, trying to stop himself from going for the chicken just ahead of him. 

He didn’t really like to think of himself as underweight, though he knew he was. 

Severely. 

A healthy fairly active 13 year old boy had an intake of 2200 calories per day. He was fairly certain his intake was below 500. 

It didn’t matter though, you don’t compare yourself to others; you challenge yourself. So he needed to ignore how much everyone else was eating and not gaining, it only mattered that he would gain if he ate that yummy looking pie everyone else was. 

Deep breaths. 

He stuffed some grapes harshly into his mouth. 

He was fine. 

Or that’s what he told himself. 

“What? Come on Perc! You were supposed to cream them! Ugh, can’t believe I missed the whole game. Your mother and her cleaning,” Arthur said good naturedly, his wife raising her spoon threateningly. 

“Yes well, if I didn’t clean we would be living in a pigsty! I think I picked up your same socks three times a day!”

Draco snorted, gulping down some water that didn’t do much to his hunger. 

He felt tired and anxious at all the different secrets that were dusted out from under the rug, like he had completely failed on the day because he had let such small things like his talking about eating habits and laughing problem slide. 

“How’s your fruit, honey?”

“It’s fruit.” He responded, too exhausted to get the words to elaborate on ‘how she cut it just right and the house elves can’t do it like this blah blah blah—‘

He closed his eyes tightly, forcing away all bad thoughts and bouncing his foot. 

“Did you expect him to like fruit, mum? People don’t like fruit—they tolerate it because it’s good for you. If cookies gave you the same amount of nutrients as apples, it’s not like anyone’s going to choose the apple over the cookies anymore.”

Draco pointed his finger at Charlie, the one who spoke up. “He’s right. It’s not like I’ve ever had cookies before—but damn they smell good. And look like they would be really yummy. Ugh, don’t make me crave something I’m not allowed to have.” He groaned, shoving some more grapes into his mouth because, shit, if he had cookies once it would be equivalent to what he ate in like, four days. 

“You’ve never had cookies before!! But they’re at Hogwarts all the time! You’re telling me not once you decided to go against Mrs. Malfoy?!” Ginny looked down right scandalized. 

“Purposefully? I would never purposefully upset my mother.” He responded, glad for the distraction from food, food that surrounded him and made him ache for something more filling.

Molly Weasley shook her head back and forth, aghast. “I’m going to suggest to that woman to let you have some leeway. You’re a growing boy, you need to eat more.”

Draco just rolled his eyes. 

She was wrong. 

He knew she was wrong. 

Because he was F A T

Like his mother said so. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t so hungry anymore.

 

\------

 

Ron almost forgot about the fact Malfoys worst fear was being disowned. 

Almost. 

Narcissa was now beaming, telling him about the family tree and who they are all related to. But Ron couldn’t focus on her pretty smile. 

Ron could only see Lucius, smirking. 

Child abuser. 

He grit his teeth harshly, wanting to spit at him to not laugh that his child thought he would disown him, but go comfort him, tell him you love him and it will never happen. 

But would that be lying?

He supposed it didn’t matter, since he was clearly staring at a master liar. 

Ron had to stop himself multiple times from outright glaring and yelling at the annoying father, who, for the life of him, couldn’t say a single thing that didn’t make Ron want to punch him straight in the nose. He didn’t even like Malfoy that much and still felt indignation for him!

He reminded himself once more he had no actual evidence, just suspicion and probably nothing to actually accuse Lucius of. But...he was sure of it. It was like how harry was sure that Malfoy knew about the chamber, it was deep down and he could feel it. and what do you know? Malfoy had been involved with the chamber, or at least, his father had. 

“Well, todays been just lovely. How about you and I head over to the chambers where you can entertain yourself in Draco darling’s room, yes? And then my husband can finally have some peace and quiet after his long day.” Narcissa suggested, standing up and brushing off her robes.

Ron fought the instinct to pick up his plate, and dismissed the normal dread that came with having to clean up the kitchen. This family had a kitchen separate from a dining room the size of the bottom floor of their house. 

“Oh, uh, sure! Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Malfoy, by the way. It was different than what I’m used to but I still liked it,” he remembered his manners just in time. 

Narcissa smiled briefly at him, before motioning him to follow her up the stairs. 

The way was just as long as before, except this time, he realized just how many stairs there was, and just how many expensive tiles and carpets littered the floor. 

He came through an odd hall he didn’t remember seeing last time, once golden linen curtains on the walls in straight exact rows, a few inches from the ground and then all the way up till the ceiling, across the entire walls on both sides. 

It was a couple more steps when Ron heard something. 

“Filthy bloodtraitor! You have no right to be in my house you scum! GET OUT! NARCISSA MY DARLING GET THIS WRETCHED BOY OUT!”

Ron turned on his heel so fast his head span. “Uh...” 

He looked around and saw that one of the curtains had peeled open, revealing an aristocratic woman with a curvy body wearing black robes that made her seem like she was heading out to a funeral.

“Oh Lord, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to take this hall. And I was so cautious, even curtaining the damned things...”

That’s when Ron realized that every curtain on the wall held paintings behind them. That was generation’s worth of people! How did they even keep track?

“Yes, yes, Auntie Walburga, I am aware there is a Weasley present. But there are many Weasleys on the walls...I’m sure your fine. Go back to your resting now, Auntie, when you wake up we’ll be out of your hair.” Narcissa soothed, for the first time since Ron had met her showing hesitancy and nervously pulling her hair out of her face. 

“NOT BLOOD TRAITOR WEASLEY’S! HOW DARE YOU DISGRACE OUR NAME BY DIRTYING THIS HOME WITH THE LIKES OF HIM!?”

“I know, I know, auntie! Look, I didn’t want too! Professor Dumbledore made me!” she whined, tugging at her dress and pouting, similar to how he’d seen Malfoy act to get what he wanted. 

“Well grow some backbone and tell that disgusting old brute to not boss around a member of the prestigious black family!” the painted woman snapped, crossing her arms. 

Narcissa closed her eyes, looking pained. “I can’t, its ministry approved.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T? GET THIS FILTH OUT OF MY HOME NOW!” Ron winced as the shouting began again. 

Her eyes suddenly darkened, her hair sliding down to shadow her face. “Your house?”   
her voice was dangerously calm.

“YOUR house? I believe I acquired this house all on my own! With your two failure sons, my insane sister, and that wretched woman whom I do not speak of, their was nobody left to help me carry on this family’s legacy! I was all alone! Everyone I loved, gone, dead, or abandoned me! I worked with what little tools I had left and achieved a higher status all on my own! YOU had nothing to do with it! I am the only respectable Black remaining, so I shall be treated with RESPECT!” 

The painting grew deathly silent. 

Mrs. Malfoy wasted no time in gripping his hand tightly and dragging him along the halls, before the woman could gather her bearings enough to respond.

Ron was only further convinced of the happenings of the house. ‘I worked with what little tools I had left and achieved a higher status all on my own,’...because that’s all Lucius was, a higher status. And she wouldn’t want to trade that, it sounded like, for even getting out of an abusive home. 

The rest of the walk to the rooms was born in silence, except for a single apology exchange between them. 

“I apologize that you had to se that outburst.”

“...Its fine. She deserved it anyway.”

 

\------

 

Draco stumbled his way into Percy’s bedroom. It was 8:45PM, and yet he felt as if it were 3 o clock in the morning. 

He was exhausted. All of his muscles were screaming and his back was sore from all the sitting up straight. 

He collapsed on the Weasleys bed, thankful for the time he could be alone. 

He slid off his shoes tucking them into a corner, then sat his shirt on the bed desk and sighed as he unbuttoned his trousers and hid himself under the Weasleys slightly thin and stained sheets. 

He felt immensely cozy.

“Alright, so who all besides Draco is sleeping in the only useful bedroom?”

Draco closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had had quite a few nightmares over the past couple of days, none of which had been about anything other than memories. He prayed today he was so tired that his mind didn’t have the time to conjure up another monster in his closet. 

“Uh, okay so then that’s—Fred, George, Bill, Percy, all of you can be in here—Ginny and Charlie you two can bond and sleep down stairs on the couches—I know it’s a tight fit but we can manage—“

Draco had fallen to sleep before he could hear the end of the discussion. 

 

\------

 

Draco shuffled down the long staircase that led to the entrance of Malfoy manor. He skipped the last step coming face to face with his father. 

“Draco? We have some unexpected guests.” his father’s lip quirked up.

Draco looked at him in confusion. Turning around he saw a tall man looming behind his father. He had dark skin, with bright blue robes and a really funny hat. 

Draco giggled at him, giving him a shy wave. 

The man gave him a kind smile and waved back. 

“Draco, the man wants to ask you a few questions.” his father leaned down to him, ruffling his hair. “Be a good boy for him, ok?”

“Yes sir,”

Draco nodded vigorously, glancing in confusion at the intimidating man to his side. The large man bent down to him. “My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, and your father was right. I just want to ask you some things, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Shacklebolt glanced at his father suspiciously. His father took whatever the cue was and promptly swept out of the room. 

Draco swallowed, sniffing slightly. He bounced his leg, jittery and confused. 

The man gently patted at his hair, similar to how his mother would when she was happy with him. 

“Alright kiddo, you want to tell me your name?”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, sir.” He nodded courteously, clasping his hands together in front of himself. 

The man nodded, writing something down on his clipboard. “Okay, how about something harder—your age?”

“I’m five.”

“Your parents’ names?”

Draco preened proudly; it had taken him forever to memorize this. “Narcissa Black via Malfoy and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!” he grinned happily. The man nodded sagely. 

“Very good, Draco, and your parents, do they ever...have they ever punished you before?”

Draco tilted his head curiously. “Like when I’m bad—But I’m not bad often!” he hurried to clarify, hooping the man didn’t think he was bad now that he had a hold of this information. 

“I know, Draco, you’re not bad. Everyone makes mistakes.”

Draco’s felt his shoulders relax in relief. 

“And how do they punish you?” 

Draco’s head snapped up. “H-huh?”

“How do they punish you? Time out? Or...maybe...a spell?” the man prodded. 

Draco swallowed. He wasn’t supposed to answer this. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, not sure how to respond. He remembered his mother saying something...

“Time-out. And I get sent to my room if I’ve done something real’ bad.” He explained, keeping his tone neutral. 

“What kind of things do you do that they punish you for?” Shacklebolt asked. 

Draco relaxed. This was fine to answer. “If I eat too much at dinner or if I back-talk...sometimes I’m not really sure.” Draco bit his lip, thinking hard. 

“Eating too much? How much is too much?”

“More than normal.” He shrugged, confused. Too much was however much his mother decided had been too much, most of the time nothing at all was even too much if he had eaten a lot the day prior. 

“What would you say you would normally eat and drink?”

“Grapes, apples, uh, those yellow ones...pine-pine-“

“Pineapples?”

Draco nodded enthusiastically. “Y-yea! Pineapples, and water.”

“How much would you say you eat of those a day?”

“Grapes in the morning, ah, then water at lunch...and maybe some pineapples at dinner? Apples are a sometimes food when I’m good.”

The man ruffled his hair. “Would you mind if I cast a weight charm on you, Draco?”

Draco nodded. The man asked him to step up on the couch and he obeyed, sitting on his knees and waiting patiently. While the man worked out spell measurement he continued to talk to him in calm, soothing tones. 

“Would you say apples are your favorite food?”

Draco giggled. “Y-yea! Those are really yummy and more filling than the other stuff!”

The man pointed his wand at him. Draco flinched, shying away. “Calm down, it’s just going to see how much you weigh. Nothing more, I promise.”

He nodded, fiddling with his sleeve. Shacklebolts eye caught it. He hurriedly yanked it back down, shuffling on his feet nervously. 

“Okay, on three, you want to count with me?”

Draco grinned. “Yes sir!”

“One, two, three...!” they both cheered. 

Draco felt a tingly sensation pool in his stomach and waist, before it moved to his legs and pins and needles made him wiggle his toes. 

The sensation dispersed like a bubbled popping. 

“No shit, your only about—nineteen pounds? But...”

Draco sniffled. “Is that bad?”

Shacklebolt ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about that. I still have lots more questions to ask you.”

They talked and it was some of the most fun (Besides playing with Blaise and Pansy, but no one was as nice as them,) he’d ever had. He asked him nice questions like friends and more suspicious questions like the ring bruises around his wrist he hid carefully behind his back the rest of the discussion. When the man finally stood up, he seemed to have made a finalized decision. 

Draco smiled at him, and the man gave him a slightly watery smile back. 

“Are you quite done, Mr. Shacklebolt?” his fathers cool voice interrupted, gliding into the room with an air of nonchalance. 

“Ah, yes, of course, Mr. Malfoy. There is something that concerns me I’d like to discuss, however.”

He tilted his head in the direction of the other room, causing his father to nod sharply in response, eyes flitting nervously at him. 

He wondered why? 

“Of course, Draco, the adults are going to talk in the other room, you stay here. If you need your mother she’s in her dressing room.”

Draco wouldn’t expect the beating he would receive afterwards, or the mysterious disappearance of the nice man’s partner. 

He learned his lesson though, he could never risk others for his sake again. Never.

He would never forget the man’s anguished shout when he walked into the kitchen and saw his partner blooding out on the floor, or the slight quirk of his father’s lip before he masked it into shock.

His father had murdered her. But there was no evidence. It was blaimed on the same house-elf that had leaked information to the aurars in the first place.

Draco hadn’t missed the ring on her finger. 

The nice man never came back after that like he had promised. 

He laughed as he coughed up his own blood. The beating was nothing compared to the life lost. 

Never again would he hold his own safety over the life of others. 

Draco wouldn’t realize how many times this mantra stopped him from telling on his parents until years, years later. 

 

\------

 

Hands were shaking him and coaxing him awake.   
Hands were shaking him and coaxing him awake. 

Handswereevevryoneandtheywerehurtinghimhehadtogetawayawayfarawaydon’tlet themonhimdirtyandbadthewrongkindoftouchnononon—

He fell off the bed and onto the floor, harming his tailbone but he couldn’t really care right now. He threw his hands over his head and clenched his teeth tightly together flicnhign back and pressing himself back into the wall. 

“Draco—DRACO! Hey, hey, you’re okay, it was only a nightmare...when you said you got bad nightmares I wasn’t thinking this bad. You’re going to be okay, okay? Breath. In and out, its natural, it’s easy, it’s breathing. Come one, I know you can do it.” 

Draco forced his eyes open and peeked through his arms. 

Fred and George were off to the side, Percy standing infront of him and a confused Bill standing behind them looking apprehensive. 

He carefully controlled his breathing and unraveled his limbs. 

“S-sorry...I should’ve cast a s-silencing charm...” he mumbled irrationally under his breath. They were in the same room as him- there was no need for silencing charms. 

Bill shook his head. “Do you need a potion? I’m sure we have one.”

Draco closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, feeling his face heat up. 

“No, no I’m fine. I get them constantly I can handle it.”

Fred gently leant down to him, holding out a cup of water. “Might wake you up a little and get you out of that daze.”

Draco accepted the cup and sipped slowly, hoping to not upset his already starving body. 

How much had he ate again?

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t a lot so why would it?

“That was intense. You were mumbling under your breath. But you seemed paralyzed. Harry usually thrashing about.”

He blinked through the darkness, too tired to respond to George’s observation. 

He slumped into the side of his bed with a whine. Chuckles followed the action. 

“We should all go back to bed.” Whoever said it didn’t say it with much conviction.

Draco snuggled into the side of his bed, yawning as he reached up and grabbed his covers, knowing tomorrow he was going to really, really care about the fact they had caught him in a nightmare twice in the same day. 

“On the bed. You’re the only one who got one since you fell asleep so fast, stupid snake.”

“Snakes are smart, since they got the bed.” He mumbled back, throwing the cover over his eyes, noticing only now that someone had turned on a dim lamp. 

“Well...goodnight, tell us if you need to talk or something, yea?”

He grumbled incoherently, already feeling sleep creeping back to him, unusual since most of the time he was too scared to get comfortable again and for his brain to shut down.

This time when he fell back to sleep, no nightmares reawakened him. 

 

\------

 

Ron fell onto the large sized bed in shock, now wearing Draco’s (fitted by Narcissa) night robes.

This was insane. He felt like he was in a movie. 

Ron was tempted to snoop around, but thought better of moving anything around too much as with how well kept the room was Draco (He picked it up from Narcissa, okay!) would surely notice. 

He curled into the sheets, feeling cleansed and oddly satisfied with his day. He had done pretty well in the polite department, he thought. 

He bundled up under sheets and quilts, nuzzling his face into the pillow. He couldn’t help but feel happy with all the attention he had received. It was fun to get to play the only child. He wondered how different he would have turned out if he grew up in a home like this. He hoped he would still, at least, be friends with Hermione and Harry, but the chances were slim. 

He closed his eyes, listening to the muffled wind blowing against the building, and let everything in him relax. 

Today had been a long day, so now he got to have his off time. He closed his eyes and slept peacefully, undisturbed by screaming brothers, sisters, or crazy friends wanting to break rules. 

He woke up by habit to when they would usually bother him anyway, though. 

 

\------

 

Ron blinked open his eyes as he was awakened by that same house elf, Stepno, using his small knobby hands to pull at the sheets of his bed insistently. 

“Replacement Young Master Malfoy! Mistress says to get you up and at ‘em! You’s have to get to the ministry so she can return you to your own family!”

Ron glared at the house elf accusingly. “How dare you awaken me,”

The house elf, startling Ron with his boldness, threw off his covers. “Mistress says NOW!” he held up a small fist at him in his best look of threatening. 

Ron groaned and hid himself under his millions of pillows, hit with the chilly air that was the Malfoy Manor. 

“Oof!”

He yelped as he felt the elves bony knees hit him in his spine. 

“DID YOU JUST JUMP ON ME!?”

“Replacement. Young. Master. Malfoy. Get. Up!” he enunciated each statement with a pull at his hair. 

How was this his life? He rolled off the bed, making the elf squeak and tumble down with him. Ron hadn’t calculated for such a drastic fall, used to his low-level bed and whined when his back slammed into the unforgiving fucking TILE that awaited him on his fall. 

“Good, at least Replacement Young Master Malfoy is out of bed, then.” The elf dusted himself off quickly. 

 

\------

 

Lupin shifted nervously at the stares he was receiving from the ministry workers. He checked his watch out of habit, before sliding a piece of chocolate out of his bag and popping it into his mouth like one would a muggle pill. 

He tapped his foot, waiting for the ministry official to come and take him into the room he had requested. The pensive room. 

Today was the last and final step of his idea. The point was to show each family now a pensive of what normally happened to the opposite family on their summer return, compared to their own, the goal being they started to understand each-others behavior a little bit more. 

Lupin bit his lip to stop himself from squirming. Of course he was nervous, the last time he had gone to the ministry of magic was to see his best friend off to Azkaban, said best friend who had just escaped merely a couple months ago and had still not been caught. 

People knew who he was. Especially the people working on Seri- Black’s case. 

A man, tall and broad shouldered made his way up to him. “Hi, I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, I’ll be the auror governing your pensive experience.” He held out his hand for a shake. 

Lupin took the hand reluctantly, tugging up his too long of sleeves as he gave a firm shake, tying not to laugh as he pictured James trying to shake hands with the minister wearing a muggle prank item that would buzz on someone’s hand when pushed.

“Remus Lupin, pleasure.”

“Right this way then.”

Remus was led across many unfamiliar rooms, and some rooms which held memories he would rather not revisit. A lot of these old rooms had been used as training rooms for the Hogwarts students when the war was at its peak. He could still picture the way the house’s had divided into themselves away from each-other, to afraid one of them might actually be a deatheater spy.

He forced the thoughts out of his head. 

He made his way through a room with a golden fountain, the straight into an elevator. Little chatter was exchanged between the two as they crowded into the small space and pressed the button in which he assumed would take them to his reserved room. 

After a long wait and many stops, the elevator stopped and Kingsley lead him out into a wide open room with a large pensive and many cushioned chairs. 

Lupin took a deep breath. Now he just had to wait. 

He checked his watch just one more time.

 

\------

 

Draco was awoke to the cluttering of kitchen tools downstairs, and glancing around himself. Every other Weasley in his room was still sound asleep. Draco had lots of experience with slipping out of a room, so he quietly got on socks, feeling dreadfully dirty with the realization he hadn’t changed clothes and was still wearing the robes he wore here, then proceeded to tiptoe across all the bodies around him. He cracked his neck popping all the cricks out of it, laughing softly to himself as he realized he had fallen asleep on the floor. So no one, in the end, was sleeping on the bed. 

He pressed his lips together as he laughed. 

“Wow, well this is new. Ron usually isn’t up until I shake him and coax him out of bed with breakfast. This makes my job much easier. Good morning, Draco.” Ginny greeted, looking up from behind one of her school books. 

School. He had forgot about that. 

Charlie Weasley laughed. “Ah, I forgot about our brothers sleeping habits. Man, it sure has been a long time.”

Draco smiled as the conversation drifted, sitting himself down at the kitchen table. 

“What would you like for breakfast, dear?”

Draco felt his stomach growl. “Can I have some toast?” 

Molly shook her head, but obeyed. It was peaceful, Draco could feel himself getting more comfortable, no longer fretting over terms and such in use of their name, and allowing himself to let his guard down as he rested his head on his hands and let his eyelids lower to the sound of a warm, happy kitchen. 

He was pretty sure these were the calmest of the Weasleys. 

It might not have seemed like it to a person who wasn’t skilled in reading people, but Charlie was actually quite reserved and while he could get feisty like the others, seemed to be the most calm and concealed of his family. Unlike his original opinion, Percy was not the most responsible or intelligent Weasley, the title ought to be given to Charlie. Molly was the same, calm, except with when triggered. Ginny was just female and younger, he was quite sure one day she would join her brothers in all of their activities once she was skilled enough. 

A plate was sat down in front of him, along with the clink of a glass. He forced his eyes open. “Thank you Mrs. Weasley.”

She sighed and mumbled something about Molly. 

He took a bite of his plain toast grumpily, his usual mood for the morning. 

“Ginny darling could you wake your brothers, Lupin said we would have to be there early, so we all need to eat quick and get ready.”

“Yes mam!” Ginny mock saluted as she rushed up the stairs. 

Draco couldn’t help but get lost in the idea that his mother would have beaten him senseless for mocking her like that. 

 

\------

 

“Ah, Draco, it’s lovely to see you.”

Ron saw Narcissa open her arms wide as Draco rushed towards her, practically flying into her arms. “Mother! I really missed you!”

Ron focused on his own mother. “Ron! Ron! It’s your mother, dearie! Ohhh it’s been so long!” he shook with the force of the hug he was receiving, rocking back in forth in her strong arms.

“Mom, kind of choking me...” he mumbled into her cleavage. 

She put him at arms-length. “Ooooh, my sweet boy! Did you have a good time?”

Ron collapsed back into his mother’s arm as a response. She lowered her mouth to his ear. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

He shook his head but clutched tighter. She rubbed his back consolingly, propping her chin up on his head. “So what are we doing here, Remus?”

He could hear the low tone of the Malfoys talking amongst themselves. He yawned, exhausted at the early hour. Ginny usually let him stay in bed until at least nine, and it was 8 already!

He felt his hug be passed onto his dad’s side as they both questioned Remus. 

He watched Draco’s reaction carefully, the tightness in his greeting to his father, the harsh pull of his hand on his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes. 

Bastard.

“So, essentially, we’ll be using the pensive to watch each person’s return from summer’s memories so we have something to compare it to!” Lupin exclaimed. 

Ron’s jaw dropped. 

 

\------

 

Draco swept to his Mother’s side, clinging happily to her robes. She never hugged him, and even if it was just for show, he was basking in the informality of the greeting. 

He felt her lithe arms wrap around his shoulders as he swung his arms around her waist. He sighed into the hug, closing his eyes in bliss. 

She untangled herself from him and leaned down to his ear. “How was your time?”

“It was...” he glanced in the Weasleys direction. 

Wonderful, exciting, new, fun, warm, loving...

“Not volatile?” 

She snorted. He beamed as she ruffled is hair. Lucius clapped him on the shoulder in a firm, but relatively loose grip. 

“Son.” He nodded, and Draco could sense the smallest bit of relief in the corner of his eyes.

He knew he was practically glowing. Both were in good moods, and were paying attention to him. 

He let out a giddy laugh, to which Lucius rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrow. 

“So, essentially, we’ll be using the pensive to watch each person’s return from summer’s memories so we have something to compare it to!” Lupin exclaimed. 

All of the Malfoy’s heads snapped up. “Is that not a violation of privacy?” his tone was deceptively calm, but Draco could sense the tightness in his jaw. 

“I—I suppose, but I hope it isn’t a problem—“

“Why, got something to hide?” Ginny spoke up, stepping forward. Mothers face blanched, anger swirling in her eyes. 

“Absolutely, conservations within my house hold are meant only for my family. That is why they are held in my house hold. If I wanted all of my enemies to hear an opinion of mine then I would tell them specifically.”

Lupin jumped onto that. “Precisely, the main goal here is to not feel guarded, we want you to throw out the title of enemy and create a more friendly term—“

“Excuse me, but how does this relate to my son and his schooling?” Lucius cut in. 

Lupin squared his shoulders. “I’m afraid if his bullying antics transcend any further we will have to have him permanently removed from Hogwarts. Your son is the main reason we’re all here.”  
Dead. Silence. 

Nonononshithewasgoingtodietheywerejustsohappytheyweregoingtokillhim—

His mother’s smile was strained. “Ah, yes, and my son owling me about all the times his meager taunts were met with violence has nothing at all to do with the fact we’ve all gathered here?” Narcissa questioned, an only mildly curious lilt to her tone. 

“His ‘Meager taunts’ are the cause of much complaint from many of my students. They are not to blame for this.”

“And my son is? On another note, if they’re others he—“ she hid a laugh behind her hand.  
“—‘bullied’, then why weren’t they brought here today?”

“Because they are not the main problem, if we take it down by the roots—“

“Right, right, then what was the point of mentioning the other children then? Are you trying to tell me Potter only ever gets into fights with my son? Because that is an absurd assumption.” Lucius cut in. “I know from experience my son loves to provoke, but to the point where he has three crushed ribs and a pierced lung? Is this some sort of joke?” his father looked between the adults in shock. 

“We are off topic. You agreed to participate, so now you participate. Whatever it is you said on the summer you don’t want us to hear can’t be so bad that you need to start a fight over it. Ok?”  
Ron groaned, pulling himself away from the sandwich his parents had made out of him. 

“Yea, I mean, we’ve made it this far!” Draco piped up.

This could be it. the moment everyone realized what was happening to him. They could save him. 

His parents must have seen it on his face, because both of them seized up. “No. This family is not participating in such shenanigans.” Lucius finalized. 

Draco glared back at him defiantly. “Why, father? Come one, I already had to spend a whole night with the Weasley’s, honestly, someone finding out your favorite food is pink frosting can’t be that bad in comparison.”

His mother snatched his wrist. “Hey! Do not speak to your father that way!” she glared at him. “What has gotten into you...Knew those Weasleys were a bad influence...” she mumbled under her breath so no one else could hear. 

“Look, I know it may seem like an invasion of your rights, buts it’s really what is for best. We’ll just take the memory from your sons and they’ll observe it. Outside of the memory it won’t take but maybe an hour. Really, I apologize for not consulting you first but I didn’t predict it would be a problem.” Lupin placated. 

His mother and father shared a look. Before they could come up with another excuse, he stepped up. “I for one think it’s a great idea! I mean, I’d like to see how the Weasleys actually act with Ron there instead.” He shrugged, giving Lupin his best suck-up smile. 

Were they actually going to agree to watch this memory? Didn’t they know what happened in it?

His mother growled. “I still am not allowing you too—“ 

“If I may, mam, Kinglsley Khackbolt.”

An aurar Draco hadn’t noticed before stepped up, making great show of his appearance. He held out his hand pointedly. His mother shook it firm, eyes never leaving the aurors face. 

“The minister is asking me to watch over this entire event. There’s no avoiding it now, he expects me to watch over you, which means I will be delving into the memories as well. My partner will watch over your bodies while you’re viewing the memory.” Shacklebolt declared boldly. 

His mother’s face went pale. 

“I never agreed to do this—“ his father began angrily, but once again was quelled by the aurror. 

“Mam, sir, don’t you think your being a bit irrational about viewing a memory as innocent as your son returning home from school?” Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows in question. 

Lucius and Narcissa both swallowed back responses. They were gritting their teeth harshly though, and by the looks of it, beginning to panic. 

Draco looked at the aurar, shocked and maybe just slightly impressed. 

The weight of the situation settled over Draco. A nervous flutter began to settle in his stomach. 

What now?

Lucius glared at them all, but had his mouth shut tight. 

Draco didn’t understand. 

Suddenly, Draco realized he knew this man in odd robes and strange hats. Kingsley Shacklebolt, that auraur from when he was just five. He met caught his eye, squinting skeptically. The man gave him an oddly knowing and pitying look. 

Draco felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dropped over him. He had confessed to what was happening to him, he had...there was no way. Out of every aurar assigned to this room, it just so happened to be the one aurar that would enforce them watching the memory?

Was...was this actually happening?

He felt his breathing was gradually picking up and calmed it by reassuring himself this wasn’t happening. Which was odd, seeing as some part of him had been waiting for this to happen for years and years and years.

(And another part just wanted to make them proud, wanted to keep living and be their perfect son)

But Draco didn’t talk about that part of himself.

“I hope Shacklebolt, that you havn;t forgotten about what happened so long ago?” his father sneered. 

“How could I forget about something I am reminded of every waking moment of my life, sir?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first fanfiction, I'd appreciate if you'd leave a kudos or comment.
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	9. I can’t take this anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "I am quiet most of the time.  
> I just stare and think.  
> My words get frozen within my lungs.  
> And I believe my thoughts are deadly.  
> And there’s probably a quarantine  
> Surrounding my lungs.  
> People tend to ask me,  
> “Why are you so quiet?”  
> I just smile, laugh, and shrug.  
> I am queit most of the time.  
> But my mind is  
> L O U D  
> My mind is  
> S C R E A M I N G  
> I wish I weren’t quiet.  
> I wish I shared my emotions easily.  
> I do not know how to start.  
> My words get frozen within my  
> Swollen lungs."

Ron stood before Draco’s pensive with a yawn. He thought personally that watching someone go through a normal day of their life was going to be completely boring, but wisely stayed silent after the fight the Malfoys just got into to.

He was curious as to what Draco’s day would normally be like, though. Most of the things that happened in his day happened because of the fact he usually wasn’t present at the Manor. 

Comparing would be pretty fun. 

Across from him Draco stood at his own pensive, looking jittery and nervous. He understood well, he had never truly been into a pensive before and couldn’t help but feel awkward and out of place. 

There was a single thing he had been avoiding though. 

What if Lucius did something to Draco in the memory...? What would they...?

Kingsley Shacklebolt would be watching their bodies, so he supposed he had nothing to worry about. 

With that thought he, and the rest of his family, ducked their heads into the swimming thoughts inside the cauldron beneath them. 

 

\------

 

 

Ron stood dizzily, clutching his head and glancing to his left and right. His family wasn’t there. So he assumed they were all seeing the same thing just in their own minds, then...? That kind of made sense. Like reverse legilemancy. 

He focused on the image before him and noticed that Draco was just getting off of the train. 

The boy strode with confidence out of the station, completely alone with no one to greet him. Ron felt kind of bad for him. His parents couldn’t even other to show up to say hi and floo him out of there. 

It’s not like I would take forever. 

Draco called the knightbus, greeted the conductor with familiarity, and stalked to the back of the cart. He sat down purposefully, one leg bent with his arm around it and the other firmly on the floor. 

“I’m all good to go, Stan!”

The conductor grinned. Ron braced himself for the spinning and turning that came last time, clutching his head and reaching out to the wall for support. 

His hand slid through the wall and he fell to his knees. 

No spinning or twisting or turning. 

He laughed at himself. He was just watching a memory, not actually living it. He had to admit it was odd, not feeling anything and yet watching out the windows to see the world zooming by at top speed. 

He looked over at Draco, remembering what he was here for in the first place. 

He hadn’t moved from his position, a small yawn on his aristocratic face. 

Bastard. 

The bus pulled to a stop before the Manor, Draco engaging in polite conversation with the conductor before leaving the bus and not even flinching at the cold that surrounded him. Draco made his way along the path then gave the snake knocker a hard tug. 

No one met him. 

Draco tilted his head curiously, his eyes matching his postures confusion. 

The door swung open. It slammed into the wall on the other side, Draco didn’t suppress the flinch that followed the loud noise. 

Ron felt his stomach drop. 

Lucius Malfoy stood before them, in all of his drunken glory. Head titled to the side, eyes narrowed, and a gripped tightly in his hand. 

Draco stumbled backwards. 

‘Si-r-r, i—I mean, what is-“

Lucius hand slapped Draco right across the face. 

“NO!” Ron screamed rushing towards them to stand in front on Draco. But the misty object of a memory merely rippled before continuing, the hand going through his stomach and making him shiver as it grabbed Draco’s wrist and dragged him into the house. Draco was slammed cruelly onto the floor of the entrance hall.

Ron didn’t want to watch this. 

Draco didn’t even thrash or try to get free, just shivered silently since he was now covered in slightly ice chunky snow. Lucius pulled out his wand. 

No nonono!

He pointed it straight at the shivering Slytherins head and—

“Crucio!”

Draco’s screams echoes around his head. 

Ron watched the image swirl before disappearing and the sound fading. His vision blackened before he stumbled back and landed on his bum. 

His father had dragged him out of the memory, wand in hand and eyes blazing. 

His eyes instantly searched for Draco shoving the gag and the shock down and not even bothering to stand up, to see that Draco was currently being held tightly by his mother who‘s lips were parted knowingly. 

Lucius on the other hand, was being held tightly by Kingsley Shacklebolt, struggling fruitlessly to escape the aurar’s hold. Both of his hands were being restrained fiercely behind his back. 

Someone grabbed him and he was shoved behind his brothers back, who were both growling low under their breath. 

He ignored them and re-found the eyes of Draco, who was being pulled apart from his mother by a new set of aurars, who was screaming and trying to get back to Draco. Her son, however, made no move whatsoever to get back to his mother, instead hanging limp like a ragdoll in the aurar’s next to him’s hold. The woman was speaking slowly to him and trying to explain the situation which he was positive Draco knew the statics of ten times better than her already. 

Ron realized he was just standing there with one arm stretched out and let it fall uselessly to his side. He could hear his mother reassuring a panicking Ginny somewhere and Percy trying to explain the situation to the investigators with Bill and Charlie talking in low voices to his father, but could only stand there, numb with complete shock, as the Malfoy family were all dragged off into separate rooms, two of them fighting for different reasons and the other in shock.

They had been right. 

Ron decided he was never going to ignore his gut again. 

 

\------

 

Molly sat in a waiting room, shivering silently. Her children were at home (aside from the elder ones, Percy, Bill, and Charlie), anxiously awaiting news, and Arthur was explaining stories to aurars and fuming angrily. 

Molly thought back to the look of horror on Draco’s face and once again suppressed a gag. This was out of her knowledge. She had never even heard of—of an unforgivable curse as a form of abusive punishment! 

She breathed out in frustration, raking her fingers through her hair. Currently, they were checking through both Lucius and Narcissa’s memories to create proper jail time and see the extent of the...abuse. 

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t been able to see the signs. They were right in front of her face from the over politeness, insane eating habits, and when he hurt his foot...it should’ve been obvious. But she had choked under pressure and now they were facing this and the poor thing had to go through even more trauma. 

What kind of mother left her child to that kind of treatment? Whoever the boy ended up staying with, she desperately hoped they would take of them. She’d take him in herself but it wasn’t that easy. She heard they had multiple distant family members that now had legal rights over him, one including Nymphadora Tonks, a member of the order of phoenix. Not the brightest witch, but certainly full of character. 

She thought back to the cruciatus curse and shivered once more, all alone in the cold waiting room. 

It was at this moment a pale Kingsley Shacklebolt strode through the doors, making his way over to her with a set of papers in his hand. 

She stood up. 

“Now, I don’t have the permission to see the boy yet, but I have received his medical files. I’ve read through them...their brief, but they give you a good idea of what the home was like.”

Molly took the papers and sat back down, giving Shacklebolt a thankful nod as he made his way back out of the room with another click, off to go sort out the problems and keep away the prophet. 

She ran her hand over the smooth papers, the ink dry and bumpy under her fingers. 

She flipped open the page and began reading with purpose. 

‘-Personal Information- 

Draco Malfoy....... 745-85-8743  
Name Ministry Security Number

546 MM Malfoy Estate, Abyss Forest, BP, 2184....... 6/5/1980  
Address Birthdate 

657-897-5485.......  
Floo code 

-Medical History-

Admitted into Saint Mungo’s Hospital 5/1/1985 for a head injury. Cause unidentified. 

Admitted into Saint Mungo’s Hospital 9/21/1989 for fractured bones and pulled muscle. Cause unidentified. 

Admitted into Saint Mungo’s Hospital 12/32/1991 for internal bleeding and permanent damage to the throat. Cause unidentified. 

Admitted into Saint Mungo’s Hospital......

Admitted into Saint Mungo’s Hospital......’

Molly gasped sharply. She flipped through the pages until it rested on a label that read, -Recent accountability-

‘Proven Abuse by Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy

Physical abuse/verbal abuse/ sexual abuse/  
Abuse specifics 

Signs of possible eating disorders/ Signs of high-functioning depression  
Mental health 

Underweight/ Scarred/ stunted growth/ magical diffusion/  
Physical Health 

~IMPORTANT NOTICE~  
Severe malnutrition and bone fragility’

Molly snapped the folder closed and leaned her face into her hands. 

‘Signs of sexual abuse’

‘Proven Abuse by both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’

Which one of them...?

She reopened the file and found the legal guardian section, only to be disappointed when it just read ‘Currently under debate’ and ‘Legal godfather Severus Snape’

She let herself lean back into her chair as she sobbed loosely, horror itching under her skin. 

She then reopened the file and began reading. 

‘-Magical Issues-

A multitude of life threatening curses have been diagnosed to have been activated on the child at young ages. One of these being an old curse known as Mortem Ardentiaque, a curse used for torturing prisoners in the dark ages—‘

 

\------

 

Fred Weasley sat in their living room, surrounded by completely silent siblings. Abuse? It had never even crossed his mind. Never. And they were all just sitting here doing nothing after finding out that he—he was being—

He growled under his breath and twisted his fist into his pants. George glanced at him worriedly. 

“What do you...what do you think he wrote down in that diary?” Ginny asked, eyes downcast and voice soft. 

Ron glanced at her. “Diary?”

“Yea...it, it can only be opened with his magical signature. Which we...we kind of lack?” she wheezed out a small laugh and curled into herself. 

Fred really wished the sponge had worked now. It had been their plan to soak the sponge in magical ink and then try to get it to connect with Draco so they could use it to open the book. Originally, they were just going to throw the bottle at him until Ginny intervened. 

But Ron was staring at Ginny in shock. He had his hand in his robe pocket. “Oh...oh god. I-“

George sat straight up next to him. 

He pulled out a small bottle. “I have it right here.”

Fred was on his feet in an instant, dragging the book out of its place hidden in the broken patches of the seat, sliding onto his knees on the wooden floor boards and placing the book down. The rest of his siblings crowded around as Ron lifted the ink bottle up, hesitating before unscrewing the cap. 

“What if it’s...what if is bad?”

There was a pause, in which all of them glanced at each other. 

Then the image of Draco screaming on the floor as the cruciatus curse hit him fleeted through his head, and Fred was nodding at Ron. 

The ink dripped on to front of the book with and eerie echo. 

 

 

\------

 

 

Draco shivered against his will as he sat in a cold room, stone walls surrounding him. He felt more like a prisoner than a victim right now. He felt exhausted to the bone, the questions the people asking him blurring together into one bad memory. Blood soaked through the bandage around his palm from where he dug his fingers a bit too harshly into and the interrogation had abruptly ended in a flurry of worried apologies by the medi-witch that had come to ‘talk’ to him. 

He smiled weakly at her. 

“Do you think you can answer my question now, love?”

He curled into himself at the nickname. 

Love. 

That’s what his mother called him. Or used to call him. This thought made let a pitiful sound in between a sob and a whine. 

“Okay, okay then...we’re clearly not ready. We can talk about something else? How about your favorite subject in school?”

The witch working on him was wearing a small white apron over a lime green dress, light blonde fizzy hair up in a high pony tail and an Saint Mungo’s Nurse Cap resting on her head. Her bright red glasses gave her an even more friendly demeanor, her black shoes stylish and something to admire. Draco liked her, even if she was a manipulative bitch. Actually, he liked her because she was a manipulative bitch. She was smart too, with a multitude of muggle degrees, one in psychology and one in the medical field of some sort. She was an unidentified half-blood up till she was 26 when someone finally recognized whatever system they had going hadn’t recognized her after one too many odd things happening around her. Turns out, her magical father had tried to keep the world away from her, and died casting a spell to seal away her magic and make sure no one could find her. 

He hadn’t been talking much, so she filled in the chatter. 

He dug his palms into his eyes to hide the tears that fell unbidden. 

“I like...I like arithm-mancy,”

“You do? Is it because of your professor or do you just enjoy the subject?” her pale lips curled into a gentle, teasing smirk. 

“B-Both...”

She hummed quietly. Silence lapsed where all he could here was the calming sound of her humming. 

“How about now? Can you answer?”

“Why...why do you need me too? You’ve seen the memories.”

She sighed mournfully. “Memories can be persuaded, I’m afraid. On top of that when need you to actually admit to the happenings in that household. It’s stu- unintelligent, but law requires that an actual confession takes place.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what, honey?”

“Yes, she—she did that. Kind of stuff. With me or-or too me. I don’t know. But it’s a yes.” He let out a choked sob and she gently rubbed her finer over his thumb, reaching over the table to do so. 

“Was it a recurring happenstance?”

Draco took a grounding breath, breathing in the damp sweaty scent of the victim room they were in. 

“Yes, mam. It happened on multiple occasions.”

“Over the course of years, or all in your younger ages?”

His mouth found his hand, preparing to bite it to stabilize himself, but the woman beat him to it. 

“No! No, sweatheart, that’s...that’s not a coping mechanism. Instead you can...”

She fumbled with her wand. “Accio! Accio ice!”

She handed him the ice and clasped his hands around the cubes. “Squeeze.”

Draco obeyed, smiling to himself as the water melted into his hand. “If you can’t answer, just wait, okay? No rush!”

The medi-witch—

Draco suddenly realized he hadn’t asked for her name. “Who- who are you?”

She chuckled gently. “Oh my bad! I’m sort of out of practice, introduction are always key!” she stood up with a flourish, motioning for him to do the same. He followed her reluctantly, taking her hand firmly in his own when she held it out to him. 

“I am Rita Skeeter, at your service!”

Draco choked on his spit. That was the name of—of the writer of the daily prophet!? He’d only seen it signed at the bottom of every paper ever since he could read!

She laughed at his expression. 

“Now, now, don’t go around telling all your friends the famed Rita Skeeter has muggle medical degrees, it would ruin my reputation! Actually, psychology is the reason I got into journaling in the first place. I’m pretty good at judging character.” She threw him a saucy wink as she settled herself back into her seat. 

Draco laughed quietly through his tears. 

 

\------

 

Remus Lupin was staring at Sirius Black, completely overwhelmed. 

The map never lies. And the name was staring at him straight in the face. 

Peter Pettigrew. 

He was clambered into a tight hug by his friend. 

“Your—he—“

“Set me up, I know. I need help, I don’t know why he’s here, but it can’t be because of anything good.”

Lupin nodded. He felt overwhelmed, first Draco, then this? 

He cleared his head and stared at Sirius in complete determination. 

“Let’s catch that rat.”

 

\------

 

 

Fred gently cradled the diary in his hands, opening the smooth leather book to the first page, swallowing thickly. 

The first page had the date on it, the beginning of the school year, and then the his name in fine calligraphy. 

He turned the page to absolute chicken scratch. Blotched ink was in the corner, insults spread the paper, chaos of sentences seeped through to the other side, and the words ‘I received a letter from my mother today’ written thickly and clearly gone over multiple times all the way across the page. 

He looked up to see a slightly sickened Ron. 

“The insults are directed at himself...”

And then Fred was turning the page to see much more legible, small writing scouring up in every available space and the date of the next week at the top.

He squinted and began reading, only to realize it was the same words on repeat. 

“Hands everywhere...” he read out loud, and suddenly felt like they were trying to decode something. 

“There! There at the bottom, it says something different.”

They went silent as each of them read what Ginny pointed too. Horror shivered up his spine. 

“I didn’t want it.”

George grabbed the book. “This is not only bad for our sanity but an invasion of privacy. We shouldn’t be reading this.”

Fred disagreed completely. He tried to communicate this by staring at his twin hard enough. 

George’s lip curled at him. “What we should do is report this to the investigators or give it back to Draco. And...there’s clearly more that happened to him under the surface. So we need to stay out of it.”

Ron lowered his eyes, but Ginny squawked indignantly. “The hell? We aren’t giving it to the ministry, what if they give it to their bitch prophet writer to exploit or something! If no one is going to explain what is going on here, we should read because we deserve to know!” her protests were met by her getting leveled with Georges glare. 

“Exactly. Our reasoning is completely selfish. Us knowing is not going to help him.”

“But—!” 

“No buts!” he resealed the book so they’d have to use the ink again if they wanted to reopen it, and shoved it into his bag. 

“I’ll give this back to him later. Do not open it young lady.”

Fred stood up sullenly and joined his brother. His siblings gave him a betrayed glare. 

 

\------

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt paced around anxiously waiting for the results of the interrogation held by a fellow aurar onto the master oculumens, Narcissa Black. He couldn’t believe they still hadn’t been able to sort through her mind yet, and had failed with heavy dosing of veritaserum already twice because of her elite mind shields. 

The door opened and he did not feel reassured by the worn out and tired look of his colleague. 

“I am assuming we’ve made no progress?”

A head shaking slowly was the only response he received. 

The man sat down slowly, hands cradling his face in exhaustion. “But...we have full evidence about Lucius and the...” he shuddered, digging his palms into his eyes. 

“It must’ve been hard for you, seeing that, I mean.” He offered, hoping to console the worn out man. 

“What he did...i almost don’t want to see Narcissa’s side of the story. Its probably a large interference with my performance you know. I think we’re going to have to watch the boy’s memories and check it out.”

“The boys been through enough—“

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Just—let me talk to the weasley’s about it. and give the kid some time, Skeeter says he overwhelmed and coping poorly as is. she found he has a sort of...connection with them. Manipulation at its finest. I mean, the two did manage to escape Azkaban as known criminals so, you’d expect they would’ve come up with a solution to stop the Weasley’s from seeing that so easily.”

“Unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless this is a distraction. I mean, currently every aurar we have available is working on this case.” his friend began standing up as he spoke, realization dawning on his features. 

Kingsley jumped to his feet. 

A loud explosion resounded in the distance. He spun on his heel.

“Fuck!”

 

\------

 

Peter Pettigrew had been waiting a very long time for this moment. Excitement and fear bubbled up through his stomach, and he scurried off down the halls to the door he was looking for, dodging feet all along the way. 

It had taken very careful planning on his part to arrive here, sneaking into that Weasley girls bag as she flew her broom, following Arthur and his kid to the ministry through the phone booth to get to the ministry to await the next plan. 

He slid under a large, dark metal door as he turned the corner, and then shifted back into his more human form. After all, there were side effects to being in an animagus form for so long, he was starting to gain his less than appealing habits he had as a rat. 

“Well, what are you just standing there for? Get me out of these godawful chains already,” the chilling voice of Narcissa Malfoy purred, tugging on the metal that tied her to the chair brutally. 

He nodded frantically, sensing the impatience in her voice. Impatience meant danger. 

He had never been made for Gryffindor. The hat had warned him of it when he requested to be put there, but he, like the foolish child he was, ignored it. 

“R-right away milady, of c-course...”

His hands fumbled with the wand he had snatched, but he began burning away the chains anyway. 

The captive woman let out a pained hiss. 

“Watch it, rat!” she snarled, standing up from her chair and rubbing her slightly burned wrists with an air of indifference. 

“Now, let’s go free my husband. What great timing Serius Black had, right? Following you all the way to the ministry for petty revenge,” she snorted as she held out her hand expectantly. 

“Well?” she demanded. 

He hesitantly gave her the wand he had stolen, wondering how he was going to steal another one so he could set the other Malfoy free. 

He let out a huff of breath as the intimidating woman popped out of existence, then switched back into his animagus form and slid back under the door, undetected. 

 

\-------

 

Nymphadora Tonks was given the ordors to leave base and head out immediately, but that didn’t sit right with her. Her distant cousin of some sort was terrorizing the ministry, it seemed, but she still felt that someone had to do something other than just scurry around to whatever seems like the worst problem. 

So she did the one thing she knew would help. 

She called Dumbledore. 

She coughed and wheezed as she poked her head through the fireplace the black soot having not been cleaned in what was most certainly a long time. 

“DUMBLEDORE! Over here! We have a prob-“ 

She coughed abruptly, wiping her nose. 

“Problem! There’s been a security breach and black is trying to get to...something, it seems! He doesn’t look ready for harming anyone though, we think he’s trying to find papers on the potter boy!”

She called out, but no sound answered, instead, a shocked gasp was heard. 

Oh shit. 

Standing before her was the potter boy, hand reached out toward fox in the clear motion of petting him, glasses askew and green eyes wide in horror. 

“Black? The one who murdered my parents?!” he stepped forward, looking down at her. “And just how are you doing that, anyway?” 

He glared heatedly at her. 

Oh shit. 

That was undoubtedly James and Lily’s boy. 

Oh come on, Tonks, can’t you do one thing right?!

“Well, are you going to answer me?”

“Look,” she laughed awkwardly. “I was looking for Dumbledore...uh, you need to go forget I...said any of that. It’s...very confidential.”

Okay, technically not true, the whole ministry knew right now, but a white lie never hurt anyone. 

“I thought you said he was terrorizing the ministry? How is that confidential?”

Tonks counted to ten in her head. 

“Look kid, this is adult stuff, and you need to be protected. Whatever you do,-“ the boy was already racing down the room, swinging the door open and bounding down the steps. 

“—Don’t leave Hogwarts perimeters, you understand me?!” she called to an empty room. 

The boy was already gone. 

“Nice!”

A particularly rude painting complimented. 

Tonks slumped. “Oh, shut up, you’re not even alive.”

 

\------

 

Harry raced down the steps in search for Hermione, head wheeling around. Today was hogsmede day, and she had gone (reluctantly) with Luna, for only the reason of questioning her about Draco. 

“And where are you going so fast, Mr. Potter?”

He stopped dead. 

“Back to the common rooms, sir, I’ve forgotten something.”

“Oh? And what are you needing so desperately on such a fine hogsmede weekend?”

“Ha! Funny story actually, professor. I just found out something very interesting in care of magical creatures about the flobber worms and I was getting my notes—“

Turns out the Dursley’s had been good for something. Lying just came naturally to him by now. 

“That would be enough, Mr. Potter. I didn’t ask for you to explain the oafs useless teachings to me. 5 points from Gryffindor for running in the halls.”

Snape swept away. 

Harry counted to ten in his head before bolting back down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of his common room. 

“Gah! Wattlebird!” he shouted at the fat lady, she swung open, shrieking about rude students. 

He grabbed his bag, which held both the cloak and Marauders map, and set off to find Hermione in hogsmede, where he would have to explain to her their need to get to the ministry fast. 

Sirius Black was on the loose. 

He began running down the halls even faster. He would later find out that the map was no longer in his possession. 

 

\------

 

Draco shuffled his feet as Reeta smoothed down his hair, looking irritated. “Hey, sweetie? Yea, so, you know your mom is really good at hiding things. So we need to show the aurars about what she did to you so she can be properly convicted. We can do this whenever you’re ready, I just wanted to make sure you knew that for your mom to go to jail in the correct amount of time, then we’d need to see and hear your side of this story.” She soothed, trying to convey her sorrow for the prospect. 

But Draco was staring at the door that separated him from the rest of the ministry. He could feel something was off. 

Way off. 

“Honey?”

“Get down.”

“Huh?”

Draco lunged for her. “I said GET DOWN!” 

He sent both of them toppling to the ground, limbs twisting around the table and chairs, as a loud crackle went sailing above their heads. He saw a flash of flames, and could assume that an explosion had went off. 

A howler zoomed into the room. 

“We have a security breach! I repeat we have a security breach! All units advance to the floo networks immediately!”

He glanced around as he heard the shouts and screams of terror run through the room, as the howler repeated they had two prisoners escaped and none other than Serius Black inside the perimeter. 

“Fuck!” he cursed scrambling back, because he knew exactly what two prisoners had escaped before their names even flew out of the howler’s mouth. 

He should’ve known his parents better than that. 

Reeta grabbed his hand. “We need to hide you. Now!” her voice was frantic as she stumbled onto her heeled shoes. Draco could sympathize when he glanced down as his boots. 

A thought suddenly occurred to him. If people knew his parents had to escape from something, they’d be wondering for what reason were they escaping. And the answer would have to be responded with child abuse. 

The world was going to find out about something so personal. Panic flooded his system. 

He whimpered as he squeezed the nurses hands tightly, trying not to have an attack right now atjusttheworstpossibletimeEVER.

“Breath slowly, okay? We’ve got to get you into hidi-“

A loud crash was heard from across the ministry, sending Draco sprawling to his knees in the aftershock. 

He glanced at the now gaping hole where the steel wall used to be and knew instantly dark magic was involved. 

Serius Black had escaped Azkaban, helping his parent’s escape the ministry would be a piece of cake, right?

He bit his lip as he suppressed a sob. 

Fuck. 

 

\------

 

Albus Dumbledore was having far too many problems for one evening. 

First, he received a debriefing howler on the Malfoy boys situation, leaving him with only the crude thought on repeat, ‘how hadn’t I known?’, the signs were all there and obvious.

He was too focused on harry. Harry, who had disappeared after hearing tonks go on about black. 

Oh and black. Stupid fucking Black was off to the ministry right now, out of any time, when he just got a reason to put Lucius behind bars. To top it off, both of the Malfoy boys parents had escaped by the help of some unknown source, whom was currently on debate if this source was the cause of the explosions throughout the ministry, or Serius black. 

Or if the source and Serius Black were one and the same people.

Back to Draco, he had just gotten word the poor boy was going to have to be interrogated because they couldn’t quite get through Narcissa’s barriers. 

They could have tried harder than that! Occulems is a tiring art, just keep switching out interrogators until she cracks! 

He took a deep breath and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. 

He hoped to god the granger girl was going to fix this. 

 

\------

 

Serius and Remus raced down the halls of the ministry, dodging whichever one of the deatheater nut bags that was setting off the explosions magical spells with an ease that stuck with them even all these years after the war. 

Remus sharply turned on his heel, because the sound he heard as indefinite scuttling. 

And then a dark feeling unlike any other sweeped over him, and he only had two seconds to process that the dementors were inside the ministry before he had his wand out and a patronus charm cast. 

He saw Serius’ steps stumble, and caught him by the arm, dragging him now through a more secluded hall. 

He glanced down at Serius’ map. Peter Pettigrew was close. 

Just a couple more steps. 

“Well, well! If it isn’t my dear elder cousin? So good to see you darling, but I’m afraid you’re in my way. You see me and my husband have a 3 o clock meeting to get to. Punctuality is key, right? Of course you and your bloodtraitors wouldn’t know that, would you?”

Serius snarled, baring his canine in the woman’s direction. 

“Severus told me all about your little trick. Ah, I guess now you two share something in common, you both have to turn into mangy beasts!”

Remus clenched his hands. He needed to keep it together. He had to focus on Pettigrew. 

He the rat sliding out from the bottom of Lucius’ door, and lunged. The rat twisted and squeaked as it dodged his reach. Behind him, he heard the first spell being fired. 

“Avada Kadavra!”

The jet of green light swept above his head and he could feel the wind pass through his hair as the spell flew behind him. 

He used his wand to cast an enchainment charm. He caught the rat barely, and grinned as it tried scurrying away but found it could not. 

A blue, wispy light sparked at the tip of his wand and trailed all the way to Pettigrew’s tail, keeping him linked to him and unable to escape. 

He yanked the chain close, catching the rat in his hands then rolled out of the way quickly from one of Narcissa’s other spells. 

He squeezed the rat harshly when he found somewhere to go, then barked at serius, “Hey! We got what we came here for!”

The duel came to a halt. 

Narcissa looked worn out, hair askew, magic depleting. But serius looked worse for wear. He might have tried to take her on if it wasn’t for the regal man standing behind her. 

“I believe we’ve come to a stalemate.” Lucius drawled. 

Remus grit his teeth. “So it seems.”

And just like that, Lucius and Narcissa had apparated away, clutching each other’s hands tightly. 

 

\------

 

Kingsley helped a fellow aurar to their feet, glancing around himself in suspicion. 

‘Weird...’

No more explosions were going off, yet Serius Black had just been told to still be in the area.

Which meant Narcissa and Lucius had been the ones to set them off...

Then what the fuck was black doing here?

Confusion lit him as he helped lift rubble with a simple floating charm that you learn in first year, allowing a woman to free her foot from what seemed to have once been a pillar. 

Another aurar helped carry her to the floo rooms to get her down to saint mungos. 

Kingsley wondered where the Malfoy boy was. With Skeeter, at least she was cool in tough situations, but he still could not imagine that he was having a good time with the fact his abusers had escaped the day of being taken in. 

He hoisted himself towards the elevator, which hopefully still worked, and began a confident stride towards it. 

After all, he promised he’d help the kid all of those years ago. 

 

\------

 

If Draco could explain this situation in one word, he might choose unlucky, or unfortunate, maybe even hell. 

But he was pretty sure the best word to describe it was chaotic. 

So many things were happening to him at once he was finding it hard to even keep up with the situation. He reran what had happened in his head so many times he was convinced it was all just that, in his head. 

Right now, he had just found out his parents managed to pull of the explosives, the escape, and Serius black had managed to leave without the ministry finding out about him. 

What kind of fucked up government base did they have that it was practically just an in-and-out mission?

He turned to Reeta solemnly. “Is there some place I can scream without worrying anyone?”

Kingsley, across from him in the rubble, snorted derisively. 

“So kid, how are you taking this? One to ten in the good and bad scale?”

“Right now, a three...when I have time to process all of this, an eight...”

Reeta hummed. “Adrenaline can do that to you....and the drugs, the drugs we gave you are probably helping too.”

They all sat in silence after that. 

“So what now?” he asked, rubbing his shivering hands together. 

“Now? Now we tend to our wounded, gather our bearings, and search. But that’s the we as in referring to me and the rest of the aurars, you, you rest and find yourself a nice guardian. Stay safe, and go to therapy?” at this he laughed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Reeta goes on with her life a little more traumatized then she was before.”

Reeta quirked an eyebrow at him. “Ya gonna say anything, hun?”

Draco cracked his neck, sighing. “...That sounds better than before?”

They both laughed. 

“Better than before...” Kingsley let out a bitter laugh, “Better than before...well, it’s a start.”

Draco liked that. It’s a start. 

Because this was just the beginning. 

His parents did not get to be a part of his story. 

 

\------

 

Serius and Remus found it to be the best course of action to head to Hogwarts and confront Dumbledore. The idea was to keep Serius in the Womping Willow, while Remus went to his office and tried to sort things out. 

Serius had never been planning to kill harry. Remus felt silly now that he thought back on it. how had he had so little trust in his friend?

Well, I guess now it’s the same with Pettigrew. 

He couldn’t believe he had gotten the traitors confused. 

“You ready, Serius? I‘m going to go up to the castle and see what I can do. You hide here with the rat!” he growled the name out sharply. 

The rat in his hands scratched at bit to get free, but Serius didn’t even flinch, his triumphant grin only widening. 

“Will do.”

He crawled back up the roots of the tree, having to untangle his robes many of times, before peeking his head out of the hole.

He ducked under just as fast. 

Harry, Hermione, and Lovegood were all in various degrees of distress out of the tree. He knew since Serius had been spotted there had probably been a lockdown, so couldn’t begin to understand why they were out when surely they’ve been ordered to their dorms. 

Harry was pacing wildly. Hermione was standing with her thumbnail in her mouth and just staring at the tree, perplexed. Lovegood was on her bottom on the ground tugging ferociously on the grass blades and growling under her breath. 

“But how do we get in, Hermione?!” Harry threw his arms in the air. 

Remus tucked himself further into the tree, cursing. They weren’t going to move for awhile.

“Oh, gee, Harry! Don’t you think I would of told you that if I knew?” Hermione responded, turning briefly from her intense staring to glare at the chosen one angrily. 

“Do you guys see that?” Luna pointed to the tree. Remus froze, not daring to move. 

“What?”

“What is it?” 

“Wrackspurts,” She answered airily. 

Remus slumped in relief. 

“Our friends are in danger! We don’t have time for your nonsense, Lovegood!”

“There’s loads of them.” She said instead. She took of her glasses and offered them to Harry. “See?”

Harry glared at her before pacing again. Hermione began arguing with him, so neither noticed Luna creep further towards the tree. She crawled over to him, and Lupin was glad the tree was tamed because of the signal right now otherwise she’d be toast. 

“Hello there, man hiding in a tree. I knew I saw wrackspurts.” Her eyes widened. “Your professor Lupin. Is it a hobby of yours to hide in rabid trees? A lovely hobby, really.” For some reason, the girl seemed extra...special today. 

Both of the arguing teens wheeled around to her. “How are you doing that? Why isn’t the tree attacking you?” Hermione demanded. 

“Professor Lupin?” Harry said incredulously. 

Lupin decided to play it off as nothing. “Good afternoon, Harry.”

 

\------

 

Harry had never felt more confused in his life. both he and Hermione were glancing at each other, wands ready and aimed a Lupin as he lead them into the tree, with a special tap they didn’t know existed. 

Once at the bottom, Lupin winced. “What I’m about to show you may be surprising, Harry. Just...try not to act irrationally.”

What harry saw next made him jump back shock. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If his eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

He felt the horror sweep over him like a new skin, itchy and uncomfortable until gotten used to. 

It was Serius Black. The horrible man Dumbledore had told him about. The murderer in the Daily Prophet. The same person who betrayed his parents. He never thought in all of his life he’d have to meet him like this, with a trick from his favorite professor.

Beside him, Hermione shared his disgust. 

“Now, I know this looks bad—“ Lupin tried hopelessly to reason, swiveling his way and that to find them now that they had scooted to the opposite side of the shack, paralyzed. 

“You can’t possibly be serious? You think we’d trust you—“ Hermione began, looking petrified. 

“Oh I am Serius! Serius BLACK!”

The scraggly man erupted into eerie, loud laughter that rang around the dust old shack and bounced off the wooden floorboards and walls. 

“But—but how—“ he wheeled to Lupin, “How could you?!”

“I trusted you!!” Hermione screeched, shoving Harry behind her and doing her best to shield him away from the both of them. 

“Just try to—okay, try to understand that this isn’t what it seems—“

“ISN’T WHAT IT SEEMS? I thought...but all along, your secret really should have been exploited!!”

Harry turned to her in shock, trying to convey his betrayal in a look. 

She glared at the ground, tightening her hold on his wrist and shoving him further backwards. He stumbled slightly, his feet tugging at a loose floorboard before righting himself.

Her gaze didn’t leave the floor. “He’s a werewolf, Harry. And turns out he’s been helping black the whole time. That’s how he’s been getting around the castle and the passwords to the common room, Harry. It all adds up. How did I miss this...”

Harry stumbled in shock. This seemed to be the last straw for Lupin, as he growled under his breath and strode towards Serius. 

Lupin passed Black his wand, leisurely shoving his hands in his pockets. “Very well, kill him. But wait one more minute! Harry has the right to know the reason why.” 

He was still on about that, was he?

“I know why! YOU betrayed my parents...! You’re the reason their dead!“

“Harry just give us a chance to explain! I promise it will all make sense, alright?”

Hermione turned her head to his ear, and hissed low. “Harry, we don’t have a choice. We may as well buy ourselves some time...”

“Fine. But nothing you say will change my mind!”

“It all started before you were even born, Harry! I helped create the marauders map with my friends, Serius, James, and Peter. We used it to move around the castle. It was complicated magic back then, a miracle we made it work. Although I must admit, a lot of the time we asked for Severus and Lily’s help, although we never told them what it was in the end.”

Harry breathed out a small sigh. It made sense, he supposed, for them all to have been just as close as friends as he, Ron, and Hermione are now. 

“When I confiscated the map, I was actually planning to turn it into Dumbledore, or even the Ministry. But first and foremost, I had a job to do. When we all got into the Ministry, everything was fine, greetings were exchanged, until the pensive...Harry, I’m not sure how to break this to you easy.”

Harry waited patiently for the part where Serius Black started exploding things and the building was almost at a collapse, eager to show him that there was no excuse of innocence for Black. 

“Draco, the young Malfoy boy, turned out to be in a rather tough position at home. That was when it really all went to chaos. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were taken into Ministry approved custody until they could be sent to Azkaban.”

Hermione let out a shocked gasp. One of her hands flew to her mouth, relinquishing her tight grip only by a little. Harry narrowed his eyes, he had known. He had known. 

But he just hadn’t done anything. And wasn’t that a first?

Then he remembered Ron and felt horrible. He was there dealing with all of...this, by himself. 

“How tough?” Harry questioned, shifting himself and glancing suspiciously in Blacks direction. This story seemed to be going nowhere. 

“Unforgivable, tough.” He responded, his forehead creasing as he let out a small breath. 

“The Weasley children were taken back home by aurars, while the rest of us waited anxiously for the outcome of the interrogation. That, that was when...”

Hermione glared at him. “Well? You’re the one who needed to reason wanting to murder someone, Lupin!”

Hermione had conveniently left the professor out of the title. 

Lupin ground his teeth together. “That was when Lucius and Narcissa escaped, with the trusty help of Peter Pettigrew.”

Harry froze. He knew that name. It was one that had appeared on the map before. 

“Serius confronted me, and cleared some things up. He was framed, Harry! He didn’t murder Peter Pettigrew that night, and he didn’t betray your parents! Peter did. You have to understand...”

“And you just believed him? What proof do you have—“

“THE MAP NEVER LIES! It never lies harry!!!” Black shouted, clutching what harry only now recognized as a rat between his fingers. 

Hermione gripped her wand tightly between her fingers. “Go on! Don’t just stop the story, damnit!” she growled. 

“After Narcissa was freed she started using dark magic on the ministry! The whole thing went up in flames! We confronted them but in our conditions we were outmatched! They got away and we went here to inform Dumbledore! Serius didn’t even receive a trial, you have to believ—“

“Prove it. Prove Pettigrew’s alive.” He demanded. 

The next thing he heard made him growl low under his breath. “Expeliarmus!”

Snape strode into the room, looking murderous. 

“Revenge is sweet.” He hissed, as Remus lay sprawled on the floor. He turned to Serius, a glare on his face. 

“This is for Lily, you traitorous bastard-“

“Stupefy!” He and Hermione shouted at the same time, sending Snape sailing across the room and snapping his back on the old bed. 

Remus stumbled up and grabbed the groaning man’s wand and stumbling toward Serius. 

“I’m done. Just kill him.” He snarled. 

For just a moment, Harry wondered who they were talking about. Before, he was sure it was him, but now? 

With a wave of Remus’ wand the rat squirming between Black’s fingers enlarged, growing more and more human like with each second passing. The new figure was hunched over, teeth chattering with fear in his eyes. 

“Hello Peter!” Black hissed, beady eyes blazing with something stronger than hatred. 

Betrayal. Harry knew both well. 

“Remus? Serius? My old friends—“ the scrappy man tried to rush between them, but failed as both did a red rover move and shoved him back to the ground. 

Serius and Remus traded wands, tossing them to each other and straightening their cloaks. 

The stared at him with determination. 

“What the hell is going on here? Why did—how is Pettigrew here?”

Remus glanced at Snape halfheartedly. “Oh, you know, false accusations and such. I believe you have just as much right to kill this man as we do, snivellus.”

“Back to old nicknames? We’re not friends anymore, I’m afraid.” He turned to the two of them, pettigrews cried for mercy not quite as heard as snapes anger. 

But harry was even more confused. How did Snape tie into all of this? He wrapped his arms around Hermione for protection, warmth radiating from her. She scooted them back further, away from both sides of the room so they were in between both sides of the fight. 

“Potter, Granger, 50 points from Gryffindor, each! There is too much that you have done to specify why!”

Harry couldn’t care less about house-points right now. He imagined he wouldn’t later, either. 

“We will return Black to the ministry to get this sorted out—“

“The same ministry that let Pettigrew sneak in and free my cousin and her deatheater mate? They would rather kill me then admit to being wrong, snivellus!”

“What happened? To whom are you referring to?” his eyes showed his confusion. 

Remus growled. “We don’t have time for this! We’ll kill him and then talk, sound like a plan?” the sarcasm was clear in his voice. 

“Actually, how about consuming that wolfsbane potion you forgot about in my office be the plan?”

Remus’ eyes widened and he faltered, stumbling with eyes wide.

“Yes, y-yes, please hear me out, they made me do it I swear I loved James and Lily—“ Pettigrew pleaded on the floor, arms raised above his head.

“Shut it!” Black kicked him in the side, hard enough he wailed and harry definitely heard something crack. 

“Shit, shit, I can’t transform here, get the kids out of here—“

“I can’t, dementors are crawling along this place, I’m afraid even a master of the patronus charm couldn’t stop them!” Snape countered, hands clenched tightly. “You need to get out of here! They target Potter for unknown reasons I have my suspicions about, and they target black because of specified orders! Think rationally! That’s your job, isn’t it? Killing him won’t bring them back, killing him won’t clear Blacks name! There’s not benefit!”

“I could’ve already killed him in the time you finished chattering!”

Hermione let out a groan, “We may as well just have party! We’re all on the same side! Stop wasting time!”

At those words harry remembered something. 

Luna. 

They had left her to guard the exit. 

And dementors were out there, frustrated, hungry dementors. 

“We have to save Luna! She’s out there!” Harry regretted adding onto the basket of worries clawing his way to throat. 

Snape wheeled around to him. “What are you on about? No one’s out there anymore, as far as I saw.”

Pettigrew began crawling away, trying to get away, but harry was quicker. 

“Petrificus totalus!” at the same time he had shouted it, Lupin doubled over, panting harshly and clutching his stomach. 

“Get out of here! I can’t...” he moaned, falling onto his knees in pain as his body began morphing. 

Harry heard Hermione shriek and only barely registered the large gash wound in her leg from Peter Pettigrews spell, just the red, hot hanger bubbling over. 

His mind clouded. A whisper of wanting to hurt hissed in his mind. 

He pointed his wand at Pettigrew. 

“Expulso!” he shouted. A blue burst of energy elicited from his wand at Pettigrew, sending the room into a fit of screams as Harry began helping Hermione up, bolting for the tree roots, acutely aware of Lupin hot of their heels and snape trying to fend him off wandless. 

Black was going after Pettigrew on the other side, hogsmede villagers were going to be terrified. 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh hysterically as the realization hit him. Pettigrew had been the cause for the imps all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first fanfiction, id appreciate if you'd leave a kudos or comment.  
> I will try my best to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, but school is starting up and I cant say a sure time, but rest assured this story will not be abandoned. 
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	10. I Starve Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "(Ink drips onto the paper)   
> Images that supposedly are but a dream  
> Smear through the bloody skies I sketch   
> (Ink drips onto the paper)   
> Words that escape from cold, clammy throats as they retch   
> Scenes now smeared onto the parchment for which I receive scorn  
> (Ink drips onto the paper)  
> And helpless people are reborn   
> Their loved ones cry for justice   
> (Ink drips onto the paper)   
> And still no one believe the truth of this wayward compass   
> As thousands of bodies crumple to the ground whom I’ve danced with on my pillow  
> (Ink drips onto the paper)  
> The dreams are truly terrifying, my life has become hallow   
> Blood and the horrors of the truth sink into the smooth surface   
> (Ink drips onto the paper)  
> My name reflects back at me, but I am not nervous   
> With the title come’s words I’ve been thinking  
> This poem I’ve been writing  
> (Ink drips onto the paper)  
> A picture of my corpse is encrypted here  
> A knife in my empty eyes forces my vision to disappear   
> Ink no longer drips on the paper, something warm and sticky now  
> I stare at it with useless, blood soaked eye sockets and smile, proud  
> (Blood drips onto the paper)"

Hermione sighed as she set down in exhaustion on the hospital bed containing Harry, rubbing her eyes in irritation. Dumbledore had come in just a few hours ago, with a sheet white Snape following him. Snape had given her one look before seeming to panic, giving Dumbledore some excuse and fleeing off to who knows where. 

Dumbledore had explained what was happening to Sirius as of then, how Harry had fended off the Dementors with the help of Snape only barely managing to fight through, and then the collapse of the Azkaban escapee and chosen one. 

Snape had called for her help as she rushed down and together they dragged them all to the hospital wing. 

Pettigrew had gotten away. 

This fact kept repeating in her head over and over. 

If only she’d just reached out for her wand and cast a good petrificus totalus charm, that would’ve stopped him. He would’ve been werewolf food for sure. 

She clutched Mcgonnagals necklace she gifted to her tightly, wondering if Ron was okay. 

That was the main thing Dumbledore had explained to her. Draco had been in a tough situation, turns out, and Ron had to see it in a memory. She couldn’t image how horrible that had been.   
But, Draco...

Dumbledore had only stated the information wasn’t his to share, and left it at that. The fact that they were handing it out so leniently already had been taboo anyway, but he had made it clear the home was not something Draco could ever go back to. 

She let out a shaky breath. 

Sirius was being interrogated as of now, which worried her. Snape had vouched for him, which forced the minister to acknowledge more that he wanted to. Even if Peter Pettigrew got out from under their noses, their main source of evidence, Sirius still had his memories and a trial awaiting him, so she hoped.

Just then, Hagrid stumbled into the room, looking shaky and worried.

 

\------

 

Draco fiddled with the short sleeves in horror. They were awful, and without his mirror charms on, he could examine every single one of his scars in detail.

Like the burn rings that traveled up his arm and to his throat. 

Like the slur his mother carved into his skin when she found him playing with a muggle. 

Like cuts on his wrist when one too many difindos had been pitched his way. 

Like the chunk of molten skin on his calf that was bitten out by exploring around the manor unsupervised. 

His ungloved hands covered in burn marks and glass scars from broken bottles and open stoves. 

His destroyed toe nail that had been ripped off in a fit of rage by his father with a dark spell that would later go for his tongue. 

His tongue and throat and mouth all together and now he couldn’t laugh because it hurt too much. 

Irreparable, by now. 

Or so he’d thought. 

Draco currently sat, completely vulnerable in front of Ms. Rita, Mr. Shacklebolt, and a new nurse who introduced herself as Melody. 

“If you could please remove your shirt, I’m just going to check the damage out and see if the scars are going to stunt your growth or cause other future problems.” Her tone was brisk and cool, but more fall then winter in that sense. 

Draco did so hesitantly, knowing his back and chest were much worse. 

He lifted the material over his head, sliding it off and earning her a feint frustrated sound at the back of Mr. Shacklebolts throat, whom seemed uncomfortable and like he wanted to be anywhere else at this moment. 

They had been told to come here because the nurses said that he ‘trusted them’.   
Rita just looked sad. 

His back was turned to them. 

“Eeeh...” Ms. Melody shook her head, “This is going to need some repairing.” Her finger brushed against a gaping hole in his stomach, where much of the layers of skin had been peeled off over and over again. His mother had always been good at finding faults and corrected them. His stomach was just a bit too protruding there. 

“You’re severely underweight. We’ll need to create a specific, healthier diet for you.”

Draco’s headache increased. She scribbled something down before looking at him expectantly. 

“Could you turn around, please?”

Draco swallowed before flipping around and swinging his legs around and on the other side of the bed , so they were dangling uselessly and barely brushing against the floorboards. 

“Oh, dear...”

He knew his back was bad. He knew. But...

Exposed like this, it felt much worse. 

The beatings he had taken had been aimed mostly at his back, easy to conceal, and almost frustratingly typical. 

He let out a dry laugh. “That bad, huh?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

He failed. 

“Yes, it’s a good thing we’re doing this now. These scars will undoubtedly stunt your growth, we’ll need to remove them with cleaning magic and make sure no infections have entered your system...oh god, I...this will take some time. When we do have that time, we’ll take a proper examination. Right now, I’m just marking down what you might be needing an examination for...” she rambled, distressed and apologetic all at the same time. 

He rubbed his eyes inconspicuously, habitually, really, because if his mother caught him doing something like that she’d have his head. 

He had mumbled that out loud. 

Ms. Rita just looked angry. 

“Look dear, there’s nothing wrong with letting your guard down sometimes. I noticed your perfect posture the first time we spoke, and I think that maybe that can be our baby steps, yes? Let’s start with posture, habits, and coping mechanisms before we dive too deep.” She suggested, getting up from her seat so move the hair out of his face. 

“Yea...yea, I mean, okay...” he shrugged one shoulder awkwardly, trying not to be too obvious in leaning against her cool hands. 

Rita grabbed his shirt and slid it back on him, and he went willing. The nurse, Melody, sensed the atmosphere and took the cue, “I’ll give you guys a minute.” The white door saint mungos room clicked shut behind her. 

Rita gave him a watery smile, and a small laugh before it faltered. 

“Dear, up until now...well we’ve been in what I like to call, the Longbottom effect.”

He looked at her, bewildered. 

“It means...that, well, you know how when the Longbottoms disappeared for a while and no one noticed because of the fact that you-know-who had just fallen? It lasted for a good while, people stretching that out as long as possible, but with the Potter boy so kept in the dark, the people were bored, and after the war, unused to such peace and quiet.”

He nodded suspiciously. 

“The deatheater trials were old news, the higher families got off the hook, and most importantly, nothing was happening. They were bored and wanted something else super big to blow up. And that’s when the longbottoms were discovered, with their minds a little twisted.”

Draco’s stomach churned. 

“It became the intrigue of the century, every paper featured the story, and everyone knew every detail. The whole affair was blown WAY out of proportion, with almost fifteen different trials held against the accused! Until Dumbledore finally showed up and ended it all, squashing the people and hiding their son away from the prying eyes of us wizards to his grandmother.

“What I’m trying to say is...”

Draco closed his eyes, understanding. “That now that Sirius Black has been detained and all is well, it’s only a matter of time before the people want something else interesting. And that something will be...”

Kingsley clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“You,”

Draco shuddered. 

 

\------

 

Severus shivered under his cloak, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin. How had he never realized...

He had been so caught up in everything around him, in his own mourning, in, in Potter and his—

Excuses, his mind whispered to him. Excuses with the purpose make you feel better, selfish, just like you are. 

He raised his hand to comb through his hair, lip curling at the greasy texture. It had been months since his last shower.

Draco...Draco, how could I be so wrong about you?

Spoiled, he had called him, straight to his face. 

A brat, he accused to Lucius, with Draco in the room. 

Annoying, he had claimed countless times, uncaring of the boy’s presence. 

Had that stung? Had he believed him? Had Lucius ever once defended his child?

He scoffed to himself. Lucius...slimy bastard, how could he do something so awful to his own blood? What had the kid done wrong?

This was just the reason why he had protested on being the child’s godfather. He had been to the manor on numerous occasions, but not once had he spotted something abnormal happening in their house. 

He cradled the report Dumbledore had presented him like it was freshly cooled glass, fragile and so easy to shatter. 

He wished it would.

He wished it would all go away. But where had wishing ever gotten him?

“Severus, I hope you don’t mind me sitting with you? I know you like your privacy.”

Severus glanced upwards, expecting the moon shaped spectacles that met him. 

“No, no, Minerva, I would never mind you.”

She chuckled and pursed her lips. “I beg to differ. You should see yourself right before a quiditch game.”

He quirked his lip at her. 

“Ah...so, I presume you wish not to talk about it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“About what? Sorry, but a lot of fucked of things have happened to me in the hour, I need some specifics.” He laughed darkly as he burrowed his face into his hands, rubbing it gently. “God, I’m so fucking stupid. I thought Sirius had betrayed us but once again the universe just laughs at my face. Turns out, it was actually Peter! And now, Draco...the poor boy, I god Minerva I should’ve known...”

Her eyes were soft and free of judgment as she spoke. 

“You know, Severus, any one of us could’ve taken the time to get to know the boy. We all liked to hide behind the lies after the war, to not see the grey that had existed from the beginning.” She laughed. “You my dear, know this thought process very well. You were either on our side or against us. Neutrality is a dangerous thing.” She sighed. “And yet, I do believe the only person who was strong enough to admit the grey existed was Lupin, and we all ridiculed him for it. Called him idealistic.”

She paused. “We were very wrong. And I, my dear, never make the same mistake twice. What about you?”

Severus found himself pausing. 

“I do not know, Minerva, but I sure will try to be there for my close one’s the next time around.”

“Trying is all we can ask of you, Severus dear. Now, how about you join me in the great hall, there’s no time for moping about, Dumbledore is planning a speech before the prophet can get out.”

 

\------

 

Hermione looked sadly at Hagrids devastated face. He was hunched over the table, trying to smile encouragingly at her as he held up a bag of rock cakes he had packed up for Harry. 

“Poor Harry, I always thought Sirius was too good of a fella’ to have done those awful things. Said their still holding a trial though, ‘si’f they need one to know what an innocent man ‘lerks like.” Hagrid grumbled, blowing his nose. Hermione frowned. 

“I just wish that they weren’t still going through with Buckbeak’s execution either! There’s so many more ‘portant things to foc’s on ye’d think they’d gone mad for caring!”

“So...you know about Malfoy, then?”

“Ye’, its frustratin’ to know I coulda’ done somethin’ more ter help him out. Dumbeldore is pos’ponin’ all those detentions they’d gotten. Waitin’ fer him to come back ter school!” Hagrid exclaimed, wringing his large hands nervously. 

Hermione gathered herself, still wondering about his earlier complaints. Why focus on Buckbeak? Why go through a trial? Her stomach sank. She had a feeling that the prophecy was about to mean something right about now. 

‘A series of arcane sightings, pieced together disbelievingly, denouements with the revealing of a facade. Divisive occurrences embitter your judgment, leaving a betrayed soul lost in a house of pain. A man in disguise, a criminal who lies, innocent lives lost can be revised.’  
Revised...perhaps...she fiddled with her necklace and glancing at Harry’s bed. When he woke up, she had something she needed to do. If Sirius was going to go back to Azkaban, and Buckbeak killed, she need all the help she could get to change the occurrences.

 

\------

 

“And now my dear students, I wish to speak a few words to bring about a sense of understanding to one of our dear students absence. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy has been having a troublesome home life under our noses, and it is with a heavy heart I deliver this information to you. I only ask you treat him with respect, and do not tease him about these events. Any student who I or any professor finds has gone one step to far on raging taunts shall be escorted home for a lofty suspension immediately, despite opinions of others. 

“I also bring to attention the unfortunate luck of one Sirius Black, who awaits trial for his innocence to be confirmed and proven. We also have key suspects who make claim for having caught their eye on none other than Peter Pettigrew, who the ministry is ready to bring full responsibility onto the misdeeds Sirius Black was once accused to have committed. With help of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood we have managed to subdue a teacher in a rather tough situation, dispel rogue dementors from our grounds, and of course, gain upmost knowledge on the subject of our Azkaban escapee. 

“Now to award some house points, for both students in and out of school for showing superb and highly appreciated traits of each and every house, I present Luna Lovegood, 30 points for loyalty to her friends even outside of her own house. 

“And to Gryffindor I award 50 points, for Harry Potter and his stunning performance of the Expecto Patronum charm, which I know from experience takes much magic to perform.

“And to Gryffindor once more to Hermione Granger, for her quick wit and skills in giving our DADA professor his potion in time for the full moon to arise.

“We shall not forget our snake friends, I present 60 points to Slytherin for cunning of high altitudes to Pansy Parkinson, whom gave us all the correct spell to slip into the Malfoy Manor and discover the rotten secrets within. 

“For Draco Lucius Malfoy, a Slytherin, I award 80 points, for outstanding perseverance and the bravery to continue under even the most dire of circumstances.

“Now I believe I’ve chatted your ear off, let the feast begin.”

 

\------

 

Blaise Zabini stared at the wall. 

His hands were shaking. 

Was it all a lie...?

He rubbed his face, feeling like all of his mistakes and problems were insignificant and petty his whole life now that he learned about this. 

Draco had been abused. 

“It all adds up, doesn’t it? The letters, the lying, the mirror...” Pansy laughed, but nothing about the sound was joyful or happy. It was cold and rang in his ears as her voice cracked with nonexistent tears. 

“The bruises...”

He wanted her to stop. He needed her to stop. Because in truth some part of him had known something was wrong, had decided that he didn’t want to make a scene or upset Draco by asking if he was okay. Because it would’ve, but looking back, there had been more to it than that. He didn’t want anything to be wrong, and he knew if he asked, there would be something amiss. 

“The scars...the mirror charms...”

Blaise curled in on himself. He huddled closer to the fire. 

“Do you remember that one time, when Lucius slapped Draco in front of everyone? We knew he was awful, but Draco seemed to love him so much. We foolishly decided Draco would tell us if anything happened to him. I mean self-preservation and all?”

Oh he remembered, Draco had been devastated. There was an ugly bruise all the way across his cheek that Draco had healed and covered up almost instinctively. 

“How about those eating habits, even worse than mine!” she laughed, and this time hysteria crept into the sound. 

Blaise growled. “Will you stop?”

“I’m not lying, you know it’s true.” She slurred, “He’s the liar.” The words were as cold as the hiss of a snake. 

“You can’t possibly be mad at him for this.” he mumbled, dumbstruck. 

“WHY DIDN’T HE SAY ANYTHING?! WE COULDVE HELPED!” she screeched, tugging at her hair. 

“Why didn’t...” a loud sob shook her body, “HE should’ve....”

She sobbed and curled into herself, her face painted with tears. He stared at her blearily, unsure of what to do as the fire crackled before them. 

“I TOLD HIM EVERYTHING! It’s not FAIR!” her tone lowered into whimpering, “It’s not fair. It’s not...” Pansy sniffed. “I don’t even know what to feel.” 

Blaise scooted towards her and burrowed his face into her shoulder. She clung to him desperately. Pain swirled in his stomach with nauseating force. He hated this. Now that he knew, he couldn’t even be there for his friend. On top of it all, Dumbledore had failed to mention something that Snape had pulled the both of them aside to explain to them right after the speech. 

The fact Lucius and Narcissa had escaped. 

He would kill them, if it came to it. 

He had no hesitation. 

He felt his face twist into a scowl, darkening as he wrapped his hands around her middle and pulled her into him. He felt his fingers scrape across the carpet before clenching into fists. 

He wanted to see his friend. But he couldn’t. Every waking moment of his life had turned into a dull buzz of waiting, waiting for them finally to say ‘he’s ready for visitors’ or whatever the fuck excuse they had going on. 

His patience was running thin. 

Pansy let out a sob. 

“You suggested him to stay with your mum, right? Snape is requesting his guardianship to be transferred to her, so he can be happy with you.”

She curled into his side, eyes closing. “As if everything’s fine, as if that’s something one would casually do.”

Blaise raked his fingers through her hair. 

“He likes her. Always has. We’ll see how it goes, okay? In the meantime, I think we need to get to sleep.”

She scoffed. 

“More like lay awake in bed.”

He hummed. 

“Yea, more like lye awake in bed. 

There was a pause, and then she shook her head violently. 

“I just...i cant...can I stay with you?”

His eyes softened. “Of course you can, Pans’.”

 

\------

 

Ron shuffled in his seat on the Hogwarts train, bewildered by the turn of events. 

It hadn’t even been a month into school. Harry still had detention to serve for the quiditch team. He still had potions. And hagrids hippogriff was sti—

No, he supposed, that wasn’t happening anymore. Lucius Malfoy was out of the picture. 

He shivered. 

It couldn’t have been possible, he thought, that Draco Malfoy would play such a big role in his third year in Hogwarts. He had imagined he would still be the verbal-bully all of them complained about when they were in pissy moods and that Harry and him would always be rivals, going toe to toe while he cheered from the side lines. 

He couldn’t explain why he felt so cold. Maybe it was because of Serius Black or maybe something so small as to the fact that he hadn’t seen scabbers since the ‘experiment’.

Fred looked at him, gently adjusting his brothers sleeping head on his shoulder. 

“You read the diary, didn’t you?”

It was really a question. 

Ron didn’t answer it. 

“Godric, I told you to stay out of it.”

Ron nodded along to his scolding, having expected this. 

“That bad huh?”

His response wasn’t really necessary for Fred to receive the answer. 

 

\------

 

Harry woke up with a groan. Pain was striking in his head, and blood was rushing to his mouth. He couldn’t see straight. 

He heard Hermione shriek in excitement somewhere to the side. “Harry! Your awake!?”

It came out as a questioned, but he didn’t bother to answer, instead grabbing the pillow and securely wrapping it around his head, effectively muffling Hermione’s protests. 

He heard twin snorts from somewhere to the side, and suddenly it was very, very awkward.

“O-h! Pansy, Blaise, I mean...I uh, wasn’t expecting you...N-not that its bad or anything it’s just that—!” Hermione floundered. 

Parkinson raised her hands above her head. “Hey, we come in peace. We just, thought it’d be good for us to visit, and you know...i don’t know, it just felt right.”

Harry sat up, brow furrowed. “How are you doing?” genuine concern crept into his voice, causing Zabini’s shoulders to slump dejectedly. 

“We’re doing as best as possible given the circumstances.” Parkinson cut in, nose in the air. “Besides, it’s not us you should be worried about. I’m sure your red head friend should be the one your fretting over. That’s, that’s we’re here, just a heads up and some chocolates. The weasley’s all arrived at dinner about an hour ago, heard dumbledores speech.”

Harry rubbed his eyes. “Speech?”

“He just woke up,” Hermione explained off, waving her hands flippantly. 

“Oh, well, sorry for disrupting you. Here- here are the chocolates.” Blaise mumbled, shoving the box of sweets into Hermione hands. 

Pansy pointed toward the door with her thumb, “Yea, so, we’ll just be going.” Her hand slapped down onto her thigh. 

Blaise nodded. 

Hermione sat the chocolates down in a rush, “Oh well, thank you for—uh, coming over?”

The two just nodded before skidding out of the room. 

Harry slumped in his bed. “Good morning problems and other things only can avoid by falling into a coma.” He said, making grand gestures with his hands. 

Hermione coughed into her hand, stifling her laughter in her hands. “Don’t joke, Harry,” she chastised. “This is serious.”

“Sirius Black? I don’t see him.”

She glared at him, the pointedly cleared her throat. Harry pouted. 

The headache came back when he thought back to all the overwhelming things that had happened in just a few hours. “Were Draco’s parents convicted?”

Hermione bit her lip, “No, i- look, this isn’t common knowledge, but they escaped.”

Harry sat straight up. “What—How? Wait, how long have I been out?”

“It’s Tuesday. And they escaped Sunday.”

Harry licked his cracked lips. “No way.”

Hermione gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. 

Madam Pomfrey then bustled into the room, with a horrified Neville, a despondent Luna, and Ginny who looked like someone had bad talked her mum. 

“Er, Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione prompted, “What, uh, what happened here?”

She startled, straightening up from her bent over position, looking frazzled. She then gave them a withering stare. Then she turned to the side, eyes far away, “Nothing dear, just...Dumbledores speech has me anxious.” She sighed, then made an irritated sound and began searching through her file cabinets for something in a brisk manner. 

“Yes, its quite awful.” Harry agreed. He glanced at Ginny who dodged his eyes. She was holding a packed up bowl of soup in her hands. ‘Probably for me...’ Harry realized. 

Madam Pomfrey turned to him now, glaring at him as if all of this was his fault, “You’re awake?! Why did no one bother to tell me?!”

“Er, mam, I only woke up a couple minutes ago, really...”

She let out a frustrated scream and tugged ruthlessly at her hair. 

The group of children who walked in behind her sent her pitying looks. 

Harry wondered why. 

“Look, I’ll make sure he gets proper treatment. You go back to looking for what you can’t seem to find, alright?” Luna’s wispy voice, normally disconcerting now comforting floated around the room. 

Harry ground his teeth together, his headache worsening. Madam Pomfrey nodded resolutely at Luna, seemingly having faith in her, before disappearing in her office. 

The group made their way toward him. 

Luna studied him with wide, blue eyes. “Seems you have a fever. Hermione, would you mind getting me the fever potion over their on Poppy’s blue-colored shelf? Thank you.” 

 

\------

 

Draco had always pondered on what would happen should someone find out about ‘the abuse’. He had always known they would asked intruding questions, but he hadn’t ever considered they would ask this much. 

It was so much. 

And it was really overwhelming. 

They said things about his eating habits and why he felt this way and should he do this and now you’re going to do this and now it’s time for this, later you’ll be able to eat this—

It sent his head reeling every which way. He didn’t want them to correct his eating habits.

Did he?

He wanted the guilt to go away, but there was the question again, did he? I mean he didn’t want to start eating too much and if the guilt went away...

He went to bit his lip, but stopped himself upon realizing that was one of the things he had to stop doing, apparently. 

Ms. Rita was incredibly blunt and didn’t tip toe around his problems, but seemed more fixated on how he felt rather than the actual problem. in fact, she hardly asked his about his diet, she asked how his diet made him feel, if certain things triggered attacks and...

Well, the other nurse’s weren’t exactly like that. They were clipped, but he supposed they were nurses and not psychologists. 

He stared at the list of foods before him, in which he had been told as a test to check off in red the ones he had never eaten, in blue the ones he didn’t eat, in yellow the ones he ate approximately once a week, with purple he would mark off the ones that he had nothing against eating, and in green the ones he ate daily. 

He glared at the paper, confused. 

After he finished this paper, he would move on to drinks. 

The top of it was labeled, ‘food variety’. 

How was this going to do anything? 

It started standard, under a column of fruits he began reading, and decided he would start with the color green. 

Apples, Lettuce (Honestly, there was multiple kinds of both of them, get more creative than just the mainstream name)...

He skimmed through the paper, because he was doing everyday foods, and found pumpkin seeds. He began looking again and the highlighted the almonds and Cashews, OH and blueberries, of course. 

He grinned, finding satisfaction in the paper. That was all the green he really had, for every single day foods. 

He moved on to the yellow marker, checking off pineapples and grapes, later finding peaches. He soon found salmon, which was healthy but carried an abundance of calories so...potatoes then, those he ate occasionally. 

He sat down the yellow pen, scanning the paper for a second. There wasn’t much he ate on this paper. He could, in fact, name all the things he allowed himself to eat right now, without realy thinking about it. 

Draco bit his lip as he picked up red pen. 

Most of the names he didn’t even recognize. Others he knew of. Kinda. Okay, so he’d seen them maybe at feasts. 

He was reminded starkly of his earlier assessment. This wasn’t really detailed at all. In fact, it didn’t list different types of cake, or pie, it just listed the name. 

Draco frowned. 

At least 70 of the words on this paper had been marked red, which sent unease pouring through him. He should’ve at least tasted things kinds of things, but he honestly hadn’t...

Then the blue one was clutched between his fingers. He was crossing off things like steak, bacon, chips, candy, pie, cake, cookies...he glared at the now practically red and blue striped paper, feeling irritated. He ate a lot! This was just some stupid, meaningless test anyway. 

Right?

Purple was last, taking off things like bananas and carrots, things that he honestly had to gag down. Most of the rest of the food he wouldn’t care if he ate were because they were nutritious but full of calories, or because when he ate them he practically threw up. 

He rubbed his hand as he sat back to look at the paper, something like anger coercing through his veins. 

He hadn’t realized there were so many different types of foods out there. 

 

\------

 

Harry sat back on his hospital bed and observed the newcomers. Lovegood was acting odd, to be honest, mumbling about her plans to make many comebacks to ward off something. Neville was glaring at his shoes, disturbingly quiet and looking subversive. Ginny was wringing her hands as Mrs. Weasley often did, her eyes roaming the room with no destination in particular. 

“How’s Ron, Gin’?” The redheaded girl snapped to attention, her lips curling in distaste at his question. 

“He’s not so good. None of us are to be honest...” by the end her voice was barely above a whisper. “If only you’d seen it Harry...”

Harry tilted his head in confusion. “Seen what?” he questioned. 

“The way Lucius treated him! Godric, it was...”

“Wait, you saw it? Lucius did something in front of you?” he asked, perturbed. 

She finally met his gaze. Harry righted himself, having not realized he had been leaning towards her to try to understand what she meant. 

“No, no—We saw it within a pensive,” she explained, glancing at Neville who’s fist had curled tightly around his robes. 

“Should’ve known Narcissa was rotten, should’ve...only makes sense with who her sister was...” he was hissing under his breath. Luna patted his back consolingly. 

“What’s going on?” he snapped. “What’s a pensive?” 

Hermione cleared her throat. “A pensive is and object that allows a witch or wizard to view memories. But I wasn’t aware that you saw it through...”

Ginny finally growled, eyes blazing as she stared them down. “I didn’t just see it! I was there! I watched as Draco was hit with that awful curse, what kind of person—NO never mind! Apparently I know what kind of person would use an unforgivable on there CHILD!”

Neville and Luna had clearly already heard the story, as both narrowed their eyes in complete understanding. Hermione however, gasped a hand flew to her mouth. 

“Oh fucking...will one of you give a straight answer?”

He heard the a clearing of a throat, to see that Parkinson and Zabini were back. 

“No can do, golden. Straight’s not my style,” Parkinson mumbled, gripping a piece of parchment in her hands. 

“Your back?” Hermione asked, recovering quickly from their unexpected visit. 

“Looks like it. But enough chit chat, we have business to do. And it begins with Weasley repeating what she just said.” Blaise cut through, staring Ginny down. 

Harry’s hand instinctively went to wrap around hers, intertwining their fingers together easily. 

Ginny sniffed. “Lupin had p-planned to show us all memories of each of us, g-going home, y-yea? P-pretty harmless if not embarrassing. But, when Draco arrived home Lucius was drunk! And then, and then he...he stuck him, and went for the cruitiatus curse,” She spat the ending like poison. 

Harry’s mind wheeled, confusion settling in but knowing better than to ask stupid questions with the somber mood that was circling around the room. 

Ginny buried her face into her hands, exhaling shakily. 

Pansy cursed. “Mother-r fuck! I’ll kill him, Blaise!” she shrieked, her hands weaving into her hair as she pulled on the roots of her black locks. 

Hermione’s eyes softened. “Oh yea, you two are, or I guess, were...” Hermione cleared her throat. “Betrothed, right?”

“No!” Pansy snapped, then softened as her lip wobbled. “No, I mean...it—“ she growled in frustration. 

She stalked over to Luna, hands still clutching the crumpled up piece of parchment from earlier. 

“Draco was allowed to send this. He wanted you to see the update as well, said so in the letter.” Her eyes were bright red and puffy, and Harry only noticed then how devastated both of Draco’s friends truly looked. 

Harrys remembered Draco telling them about how he had known them well before he was born, but it felt like so long ago he couldn’t really imagine that it was in the same year. 

“Do me a favor, will you, Granger?” Parkinson addressed Hermione, looking livid, “Don’t mention this to anyone outside of this room, but me and Dray? We never had any intention to follow our parents bidding and get married,” her high pitch laughter cut her own rant off for a moment, before she swayed to the left with a grin, “—and Draco always pretends to be madly in love with me so my parents never find out. We were betrothed since the moment we were born. And you know what the worst fucking thing is? I’m glad. I’m glad that Draco’s parents are fucking out of the picture because now I don’t have to marry him. I’m so selfish I can’t even hate this situation because it benefits me!” 

And then Parkinson was grabbing Blaise’s hand and striding out of the room, sobbing openly and loudly. 

Harry didn’t feel like knowing what the crutiatus curse was anymore. 

 

\-------

 

If Lupin was more sure of himself, than he might have thought they had enough evidence to free Sirius. But the truth was, he had never really thought the ministry would let him go and show just another failure after Dumbledore’s speech about the Malfoy boy. 

But when Tonk’s came into the room, toothy grin sharp and wild with a look of pure triumph on her face, and knuckles bleeding, he stood corrected. 

“They’re going to make a public announcement when the Malfoy boy’s whole...thing, calms down. I can’t wait to see the look on the peoples face...!” she squealed, tripping over her robes with her bleeding knuckle woven in her mouth.

“That’s great news. What happened to your hand?” his eyes were stern. She pouted. 

“I may or may not have fallen over and hit the fudge in the face...accidentally, of course...but that did seem to give him a good clear view of the situation when Sirius jumped up to help me, fussing over my wound. If only Fudge would have known Sirius was just scared you’d blame him.” she giggled, humming a tune with a wide grin. 

Remus rubbed his temples as he sat back. “And, uh, what are they going to do about my position in Hogwarts, you know about the whole...”

“Oh! That’s still under wraps to the public, but their condition for keeping it all hush-hush was you resigning so—yea, sorry.”

He groaned as he rubbed his face, but couldn’t help the small smile that graced his features. “Your hand split open from hitting Fudge in the face?”

She scoffed. “No, my hand split open from biting on it as Sirius healed my leg, dummy.”

Remus chuckled to himself. Tonks had never been good at explanations. She said one thing and expected you to know it meant something else entirely. It sounded like she had hurt her leg while falling over the Minister, and Sirius had given her a potion most likely provided my Snape (who he knew was in the room from Mcgonnagal), and had bit on her hand because of the pain of snapping her bones back into place. 

He shook his head. “But everything’s all right? Snivellus is accepting this? And Sirius will get a proper trial?”

She squealed and bounced up and down on her heels, nodding vigorously. 

 

\------

 

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt rubbed his head, sighing to himself. He sat in a room with the minister, Dolores Umbridge, and Ms. Rita Skeeter. 

Not exactly the kind of people he wanted to deal with right now. 

“I think if we post something now—while the boy is secluded—it will do less damage because his story would have already been up and about. Besides, we need to assure the people the ministry had this under control.” Rita stuffed her nose in the air, her red glasses tipping to the left with the sheer force she did so. 

“The boy needs a proper guardian, that’s what. Mrs. Zabini should do just thing, respectable young woman, I’ve heard she’s quite friendly with the woman’s kid as well. Blaise, I believe?” Dolores countered, also sticking her nose in the air rather than the stuffing motion Rita chose. 

“Now, now ladies please. I do believe his legal guardian is professor Snap—“

“Who is willing to step down—“ he interrupted, but Fudge went on as if he never spoke. 

“And that we should keep the profit on the low.”

Kingsley never thought the day would come when all three of them agreed on something strongly. They were so right and yet the minister would rather keep his own head then the move with the boy’s best wishes. 

He glared. “With all do respect, sir, the boy should come first—“

“Children are our future—“

“The profit needs to be sated, believe me, our fans know when we’re hiding something and we need this story out before someone else picks it up and distribute it wrongly—“

“Enough! I said we make no further moves. The boy stay with Snape as his legal guardian and you leave him be. The profit stay out of it— yes, Dolores?” he snapped, frustration lacing his voice. 

“If I may sir?”

Fudge gave a sardonic nod. 

“The boy needs proper treatment, and his guardian isn’t the most...ahem, stable of people, especially according to the fact his abusers hand-picked him. He would be best off with the Zabinis, its simple truth.” Dolores pursed her lips and stood her tallest her eyes narrowed as her pink ruffles squished down a bit on her arms. 

She was surprisingly intimidating and she did make a point. He would guarantee the boy would be happy to live with his friend rather than his scary potions professor. They’d already looked into it when the owl came, it was the best solution they had. Even if it ended up being only temporary, he saw no reason to object to it. 

“L-look,” Fudge fumbled, pulling up his robes to try to stand tall. “I understand your concern but the boy is not our top priority with Sirius Black going through a trial when he is clearly—“

“Not guilty. Everyone in that court knows it, you know it, hell, even my patient who hasn’t left his hospital room in five days knows it! It’s been a long enough, the children at Hogwarts are getting antsy because they want to see their friend or news of their friend. Dumbledore is having a conniption and has already taken action! On top of that, I refuse to put that boy back with an ‘ex’ deatheater!” Rita twisted her red lips sourly, her style and clothes a complete contrast to Dolores even as both of them glared daggers at Fudge. 

“The prophet always knows!”

“Children come first!”

Kingsley couldn’t say how many times he’d heard those lines, but never at the same time and never on the same side. Dolores had lost her first child, and after that had been unable to have other children. Her husband left her in search of someone who could bare an heir to his family line, and she grew devastated. She climbed the ranks fast and now practically lorded over what happened in situations like this. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be denied when she was undoubtedly correct. 

And Rita, well, she did always know. She seemed to know everything and wanted everyone else to know everything because she liked awareness. Many times when they tried to keep things hush-hush Rita would figure out the best way to exploit it and dodge the laws. 

The two of them were crazy, but together they were making Fudge sweat as if he was arguing with Dumbledore. 

Kingsley pinched his nose and addressed his minister. “I know this must be hard for you to understand, but sometimes we make mistakes. We mustn’t put others in danger because we are too stubborn to admit that none of us noticed the Malfoys abuse or Blacks innocence. Now, I think I’ll be taking my leave. I am an Auror you know, meetings aren’t my actual job.”

With that he swept from the room, already bracing himself for the howler’s that were awaiting him at his office. Stupid people, never able to do their own jobs...

He would never get the chance to regret that decision. 

 

\------

 

Neville Longbottom didn’t really like Draco Malfoy all that much. He didn’t loathe him like Harry, because sometimes Draco Malfoy did stop the bullying from getting physical (odd, seeing as he was so cruel with words, but children mimicked their parents behavior so maybe that’s where he got his tongue), and often times asked him for genuine help. 

Unlike the public, he knew the boy had no pride. He’d dance in Gryffindor robes on the Slytherin table with hair dyed red if someone simply asked him to. No, he never associated pride with Draco Malfoy. A boy with his parents often had to submit. 

He thought of him as cornered, quirky, rude, swift, and very precise. 

That was the extent of his opinion. 

Until Dumbledore made a speech that shut Luna up and had Ginny bursting out in tears like she hadn’t done since the start her first year. 

He was concerned. He knew Saint Mungos could be cruel, that the ministry was corrupt, and of course, he was practically famous among the wizarding world now. The Malfoys had many friends all around, and the word of the treatment their child received spread fast. 

The daily prophet had just released a horrifying article, which was no help in his opinion. 

Sirius Black was silently being turned on by the law while everyone focused on the Malfoys, and poor Hagrid was Sprout were devastated Buckbeak was being taken care of. Sprout fed all of the Hippogriff on Hogwarts grounds. Their diet was very limited and they often overate so it had to be given in moderation. 

Hagrid was Hagrid and he was just way too attached, but Neville still felt sorry for him. 

Some say Neville was a Hufflepuff. Nobody bothered to see the similarities he shared to the house of Ravenclaw, and no one even wanted to consider him and Slytherin. 

But even with this thought in mind he held his request letter tightly in his hands. He had a great idea to make all of this tone down around Hogwarts. He was going to request a mass re-sorting. Every year, he was asking Dumbledore, to have each student sorted. 

He thought of Draco’s pale face in the daily prophet and strode quicker. He was put in that situation because his parents had money and prestige. Without the Hogwarts houses, some of the friendly-ness between high ranking family lines would wither. 

It was for the best. 

 

\------

 

Draco tapped his fingers in irritation. Before him was a plate of food he was required to eat, and he could already feel the headache coming. It wasn’t over the top, plain chicken with a bit of salt and a pile of noodles mixed with tomatoes on the side. He closed his eyes against his mother’s reprimands and his father’s insults. 

He was currently in a hospital like cell, a bed on the corner where he had been checked up on many times, a side table where he was currently sitting at to eat, and windows that he kept firmly closed with the curtain over it. 

He looked into his cup. Water, maybe tap. He took an experimental drink. Fresher than it smelled. 

When he finally got around to stabbing his fork into the chicken and taking a bite, he almost gagged right there. He had to spit it out and cough. 

It was bursting with flavor and fuck it was way too much. His stomach growled but he quickly downed the water, curling a hand protectively around his middle. 

He took a much smaller bite, making sure to wipe off the non-existent sauce that seemed to coat it. He swallowed slow, and this time took a more measure bit. After some nibbling he got anxious, and began swirling around his noodles, prolonging the inevitable. 

He put one in his mouth and found them much more bearable. With this fact, came the overwhelming hunger. He had three noodles on the fork and was practically shoving them down his throat, moaning at the much better taste then he was used to. 

He had cleaned the 23 or so bow tie noodles off of his plate, down to the last tomato bites in instants. He downed the rest of the water and sat back, satisfied. He didn’t know how he was now expected to eat all of that chicken! It was way too much...

The door slid open and a woman he had never seen before strode in. 

“Hello there little one. I am Dolores Umbridge, pleased to finally meet you. I will be escorting you off of the premise to Saint Mungos to pick up your new diet plan and then we’ll be taking you down to your new home!”

Her bright, cheery voice already gave him a headache. He knew all too well who Dolores Umbridge was. 

He rubbed his temple and took a drink from his empty water glass to hide his grimace. 

 

\------

 

Molly Weasley fussed. 

Her children were back at Hogwarts like nothing happened. 

She just got word Draco was staying with the Zabinis. 

Everything was fine

Except nothing was fine! 

The boys file wasn’t fine. Her children’s trauma wasn’t fine. Arthurs solemn expression wasn’t face. She wasn’t fine. No one was fine! They were just pretending!

She growled as she scrubbed at the windows, putting so much force into it she was surprised the cheap glass didn’t crack under her arm. Molly was not having a fine day. (Because nothing was fine)

Everything felt blurry and she couldn’t get anything truly done because of all of her worrying. Distractions didn’t last long and she didn’t have the patience for it. The only thing she seemed to be able to do was fret. 

This year was supposed to be better for Ginny! You only get so many years at Hogwarts! The twins were supposed to be children, not responsible adults who actually new shit. Left alone to the fact Ron looked constantly sick and everyone was just guilty and sad. 

She was guilty and sad. 

She had thought the boy was a no good brat, that ne needed to be taught a lesson. His parents shared the sentiment. The thought made her sat her dusty rag down and breathe. She couldn’t believe all of this was going on under everyone’s noses. Her chat with Dumbledore had been short lived. She felt wrong, out of place, and just not fine. 

Because nothing was fine. 

She needed something to do. 

Her eyes found her wand and she was reminded of the frustration release dark spells could give. She grinned. 

If deatheaters were on the loose, she needed to oil of up rusty joints anyway. 

 

\------

 

The next time Harry woke up, it was to Hermione’s grim expression. In her hands she held a golden chain, attached to it a large clock shaped pendant with a spinning hourglass in the middle.

She looked straight at him. “Sirius Black was just declared guilty. Buckbeaks executioner arrived. Shacklebolts gone. I need your help.”

Harrys heart sank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first fanfiction, id appreciate if you'd leave a kudos or comment.  
> I will try my best to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, but school is starting up and I cant say a sure time, but rest assured this story will not be abandoned. 
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


	11. Show Me That You Care Enough To Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, day, or evening. I hope you enjoy what I've written, I do my best with both the plot and grammar without a beta. If your interested in helping me continue with future chapters leave a comment down below. Criticism welcome.
> 
> A couple mandatory warnings before we begin. 
> 
> This story may be triggering to you. It, as of the first chapter, details homophobia, implied anorexia or other eating disorder, self-harm, child abuse, and so forth. This story also includes rude language, rape/non-con, and content advised to be viewed only by adults. 
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> "How did I go from that little five year old always playing and always laughing to...this?"

Hermione couldn’t help the hiss that left her mouth as she scurried down the grass Harry in tow. Her arm still hurt like hell from when Pettigrew had bit into it just days before. 

Now they were back in time, three turns and wondering if interfering with Malfoy would be good idea. They could call Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, warn them about Lucius and Narcissa’s plan, but Draco might end up in a rougher spot if they did so. 

Harry and her decided to leave them alone and go after first Buckbeak. Not exactly the largest necessity, but...

Hagrid was just so upset!

She hid behind on of the trees, tugging Harry behind her. She saw her own hair staring straight at Hagrid, and the ministry officials walking down. Soon, something would hit her in the back of the head and she’d turn around to see them. 

Any second now...

Harry launched a rock through the open window, snapping her in the back of the head. 

She slapped her hand on her neck, rubbing it. “Harry, I said no unnecessary interferences—“

She cut herself short as she saw herself turn around and see the officials. 

She furrowed her brow. “But...”

Harry was already tugging at her arm, telling her now or never. 

They began lulling Buckbeak toward them, leaving a trail of food. When the hippogriff was close enough, harry rushed forward and cast a defindo charm on the chain, before a stupefy charm in quick succession. The combination of the magic split apart the chain disturbingly loud. 

She rushed to coax the creature towards her as Harry finished their trail of food. 

They both sighed in relief when Buckbeak was safely hidden behind the brush of forest. 

“WHER IS THE BEAST!?”

Hermione didn’t bother to resist the smirk that crossed her lips. Harry cradled buckbeak, cooing at it across from her. He was mumbling soothing things to him as he rubbed at the wings of him, clearly understanding those chains had hurt. 

Harry’s eyes snapped up and he stumbled forward, smacking a hand around her lips to hush her. 

She listened intently to what harry had heard. 

“We must find him! I don’t care if he’s taken to the skies!” Fudge was rumbling, distressed. 

“If I may, sir, I believe you shouldn’t dwell here, no matter how welcome you are in my castle.” Dumbledore spoke smoothly, “You have other issues at the Ministry now, do you not? I believe is as big as a muggle president turning out to have been, ah, behaving unforgivably towards their children. I’d hate to hold you up.” He reached into his robe, “Would you like a chocolate frog before you depart?”

Hermione smiled against harrys hand, but Harry was frowning as if Dumbledore had lost. 

“I have howlers updating any negative circumstances! We can find him!”

“And what? Execute a beast that was convicted of crime by the parents of the same boy you’re trying to protect from them right now? Who is even trialing against Buckbeak anymore?”

“The beast had a name...” Fudge muttered spitefully under his breath, before clearing his throat. 

Hermione was surprised for just a second how clearly she could hear them, before noticing that Harry was pointing his wand at both of them. It looked as if he really wanted to hear this if he was using up his magic on a volume charm. 

“Has a name, my friend.” Dumbledore popped the chocolate frog into his mouth and licked his fingers, taking his sweet time. “Anyways, I received the boy’s file and I was wishing to discuss it with you.”

Fudge shifted uncomfortably. “Shouldn’t we do this somewhere more private?”

Hermione felt as if Dumbledore was winking at them. He chuckled heartily, “More private then grounds students aren’t allowed to go on unsupervised? Why, there’s not a place in the castle more private! My office is always open, after all. So much work awaits me...” he sighed. “I believe the file was missing some key information?”

“Everything I know is in that file, Dumbledore! There’s no need for me to tell you everything I know again!” Fudge snapped. 

Dumbledore’s smile faded. “Humor me.”

There was a long silence in which the executioner was awkwardly dismissed, along with Hagrid and the orders to continue with Halloween preparations. 

“What are the questions you wished to ask me?” Fudge gritted out, using the word wished with special vehemence as it was the word Dumbledore had chosen. 

“I want to know why this boy has been in my school for nearly three years and not once was I informed he was underweight and nearly always had bruise on his body, along with millions of mirror charms I myself would not even be able to perform and maintain all day.” Dumbledore’s tone was light, but accusing. He raised his eyebrows in question. 

Fudge spluttered. “I’m not sure what you think you can say to me, but I am—“

“I believe I asked a simple question, Fudge.”

This time, he growled. “I don’t have time for this—“

“But you said you had howlers to inform you of an emergency? Were you lying? You had time to search for a harmless bird but not to chat with an old friend?”

“That beast ripped open a boys arm, he is hardly harmless. And we were never friends.”

“Are you going to answer my first question or should I go ask the boy himself?”

Fudge sighed. “This feels more like an interrogation than a chat between old friends.”

Dumbledore smirked. “Ah, but I thought we were never friends?”

They both shuffled this time, Dumbledore taking another bit of his chocolate frog. 

Fudge looked far away. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake, Headmaster. It’s seems that’s all I ever do.”

Dumbledore let him continue, shifting his weight into something more comfortable. 

Hermione, meanwhile, moved Harry’s hand away from her mouth. The boy didn’t even seem to notice, to entranced in their conversation. She bit her lip, wanting to know why no one had ever put two and two together almost with the same vigor. 

“You see, us at the Ministry received an anonymous call many years ago. It was from a freed house-elf, we later learned. It informed us that the Malfoys house was not as it seemed, in many more words. I sent Kingsley Shacklebolt over to investigate. The boy was highly malnourished, and seemed likely to have been abused. But Lucius targeted as we have now discovered Kingsley’s partner and fiancée, silencing Shacklebolt with illegal magic. We never received the correct report. Kingsley was forced to lie to us by the foul monster’s dark spells. His fiancée was burnt to ash. We were told she got sick and didn’t make it out. If I would have sent another crew, this time armed and ready, this would never have gotten so out of hand.

“The reason you never were informed of anything is because no one was aware. The Malfoy boy was afraid he next people he told would meet the same fate, and kept silent ever since. I think he truly believed no one would ever believe him over his father. The worst part is? He might’ve been right. Narcissa is a master of manipulation. It’s why she’s so good as legilemancy.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. She couldn’t imagine that being on her, knowing that if she just would’ve kept quiet that a lie could’ve been saved. 

Narcissa, it seemed, also took part in the abuse. 

Hermione shivered involuntarily at the thought. Harry’s hands were clenched into tight fists, his fingernails leaving white lines along his palm. 

Dumbledore nodded tersely. “I presume you’ve made arrangements regarding the boy’s residency already?”

Fudge nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Parkinson volunteered, as well as Ms. Zabini. The boy decided firmly on staying with the Zabinis when given the option.” 

Dumbledore nodded. 

Hermione remembered they had a large bird behind the running out of snacks for distraction. She took her partners hand and dragged him behind the tree. He looked ragged. 

“Look Harry, we have to hurry.” She reasoned, hushing Buckbeak with soothing manners of her hand. 

“I know.” His eyes were dark. “If I ever see Lucius and Narcissa again, don’t expect me to show mercy.” He declared boldly.

Hermione would’ve rolled her eyes if it was anyone else. Harry’s eyes suddenly resembled something much murkier, much more dangerous. His posture was tall and imperious and completely intimidating. Instead, the only thing she responded with was, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then harry swung his legs over buckbeak, holding out his hand to pull her up with him. when both of her feet were on the sides of Buckbeak’s stomach, she buried her face in the crook of Harry’s neck. 

Buckbeak took off. 

She blew the hair out of her face and clutched on to his waist tight as she suppressed a scream. 

 

\------

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt readied himself for his meeting with Dolores Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, and the minister himself carefully. Each one of them held a different sort of power, but definitely shared a trait. He knew from experience how persuasive each of the figures could be.

He felt a sense of foreboding so decided to wear his best. Deep blue robes and his signature hat except colored blue hung on his body. The trim at the bottom of his attire was laced in black, like spider webs creeping up his legs. 

He closed his eyes only briefly as misplaced fear clung to him. His hand hovered over his wand, before dropping. It was silly of him. There was no need for his wand when in a room full of respected Ministry officials. 

He knew that. 

He brushed off the feeling and walked out of the oaken doors, shaking his head at his own paranoia. 

 

\------

 

Harry frowned at the scene before him. Both he and Hermione were crouched low beneath the bushes, waiting for their past selves to see Lupin sneaking out of the tree. 

He remembered this the first time around, but then it had gone so much faster, and was much more overwhelming. 

Luna made her way to the tree. 

He glared as he saw them all go below, waiting for the moment when they would come back up. This time around, they saw Snape dunk under the roots as well, dodging the dementors expertly. 

Then they waited. Harry readied his wand as he heard the sharp growl emanate from below the tree.

The first thing he saw was Sirius out of the tree, coughing and hacking hysterically and freezing when his eyes met the dementors outside. 

Harry narrowed his green orbs in determination. 

He reminded himself not to focus on Pettigrew’s escape, instead jerking into action with Hermione when his past-self sprinted out of the tree, dragging an injured Hermione and followed closely by Snape, who was casting spells in quick succession.

Lupin in his complete werewolf form roared, getting up on its feet as Sirius transformed into his animagus form, and barreled into his exposed stomach. They rolled around on the ground, Lupin easily getting the advantage. Sirius, in his wolf form, jumped away quickly when the Werewolf made a quick slash at him. 

Past-Harry dragged past-Hermione out of the way, but froze in a dizzy spell as dementors swooped down. Past-Harry relinquished his clutch on past-Hermione and stumbled. They were just on the edge of the slope that lead down to the black lake. Without the distraction, Lupin lunged at their past selves, Hermione pushing fast at him in his dizzy state from where he’d dropped her on the floor. Even with her injured leg from Pettigrews spell, she had enough force to send him tumbling down the hill and right before the black lake. 

The demnotrs began circling circled his past self, as Sirius rushed to his aid.

Hermione shrieked loudly as her and Snape were now left alone with the werewolf, Sirius rushing down to help him. he growled at the dementors and changed back into his original form, firing a quick patronus charm that was smothered quickly. 

Luna came bolting out the tree now, wand at ready and looking furious. Her pale lips were bleeding, and her normally immaculate blonde hair was askew. She did not hesitate before going for the castle, clearly thinking rationally about getting help. 

Back up the hill, Snape rushed to help past-Hermione, shielding her with a quick Stupefy that stunned Lupin for a second before he was bounding over to them again. 

Harry panicked. Lupin was going to make it, he was—

Harry heard Hermione howl, hands cupped over her mouth to extend the sound. 

Lupin-werewolf twisted its upper body, yellow eyes staring directly at the tree they had scattered behind. 

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed at her. 

“Winging it!” she whispered frantically back. 

They hurried to escape, weaving through the trees as Lupin searched for their scent in clear confusion. After all, it was impossible to be in two places at once. Lupin looked around a little, prowling and arching his back. He moved deliberately toward the large tree they had scooted around. He held his breath. 

Its confusion gave Snape enough time to get the wolfsbane out and ready. Snape, ever the perceptive one, was staring at the fir tree skeptically. Even so, he took the blessing and rested the potion next to his hip, inching closer to the werewolf. 

Hermione and him stayed very still. Luna’s footsteps echoed as she tripped over her robes to get to the castle. 

Past-Hermione was just as brilliant as the Hermione next to him, it seemed, and when the large werewolf lunged at them with his jaw open wide, she cast a perfectly timed petrificus totalus. 

The wolf froze momentarily in mid-air, just enough time for Snape to tackle at the wolf, shoving the potion completely down the frozen wolf’s throat. Harry, for the first time, questioned Snapes sorting. It took bravery to make a move like that. If one of those teeth nicked him, he’d be a werewolf the rest of his life. He shoved the potion further down the more plaint Lupin’s throat, and almost instantly the wolf stopped struggling, whining as it bounced away in horror. He twitched madly on the ground, nature fighting against his professors consciousness. 

Hermione tugged on his wrist. She jerked her head in the direction of past-him and Sirius. 

They moved behind each tree, careful not to make to loud of snapping noises. He vaguely heard Snape’s consoling voice and a loud wolf whine. 

Hermione looked to him. “How do you guys escape?”

Harry bit his lip, but decided on telling her anyway. “I think I was my dad’s patronus. I saw a stag.”

“Harry, your father is...”

He let out a frustrated breath between his teeth. “Dead. I know, but I also know what I saw. You’ll see. Someone’s got to do it.”

He moved quickly up around the Willow, to the other side of the black lake to avoid any more of her comments. They crouched behind a thorny bush, watching the dementors hack away at him and Sirius’ struggling forms. Soon, though, both of them wore out and collapsed onto their news, only the barest wisps of their patronus sprouting from their wands. 

He eagerly waited to see his savior, but after agonizingly long moments where phantom pain struck him everywhere, Hermione turned to him. 

“Harry, no-one is coming. You have to do something! Your dying.” She flailed urgently, her arm and neck no doubt scraping against the bush. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. It had happened before just fine! They would live without his interference!

But Hermione and Snape had needed their help. And they were just fine last time too...

Harry glared, turning his head back to his past self. 

He stepped up and out of the bush, still bending lower to the ground and got to the edge of the lake, pulling out his wand. What if he...

Harry concentrated hard. He had to make this wonderful. Bring a smile to his face. 

A flash of the first time he met the Weasleys came to mind. The first time Ginny and him held a real conversation together, Hermione helping him with homework every night after her own, Neville standing up for himself against the Slytherins, Fred and George’s pranks. Molly’s warm hugs and Arthur’s odd habits, his mother and father standing in the mirror of erised...

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

It wasn’t his fathers....

It was HIS!

The stag leapt gracefully from his wand, silvery wisps flowing off of it as it bounded towards the dementors and shielded his past self and Sirius from harm’s way. As the dementors hissed at the light Snape and a limping Hermione rushed forward, casting their own spells and knocking them away for good. 

Harry collapsed forward, his magic leaving his body, but warm soft feathers caught him.

He looked up with a hazy smile, running his hands over the golden feathers blearily. “Good boy...Buckbeak...”

“Buckbeak! We told you to run!” Hermione nearly screeched, horrified. Her voice was still carefully low, however, “They’ll catch you!”

Buckbeak just readied his leg like a bull would cockily, making a preening noise. 

Harry chuckled weakly, tilting his head into the animals body. 

Harry slung his leg over the hippogriff. “Well Hermione, there’s no time like the past to fix things.”

“I believe the saying is—Oh.” Hermione held her finger up and dropped it just as quick sheepishly. 

He helped Hermione up and she wrapped her arms around Harry. 

“How did you know that would work?” Hermione wondered as they took off. 

Harry beamed. “It was me! I saw my own patronus! Does that make sense!”

“No-NO!” Hermione’s voice wobbled as they soared through the sky. 

“What are we doing!?”

“Saving Sirius!!”

“HOW?”

“I’ve got an idea!?” his voice tilted unsurely at the end. 

 

\------

 

Sirius Black received a very peculiar message today. It said, in exactly 84 hours to look out the window and help will be waiting. 

84 hours later, and he understood. 

He stared at the large flapping wings of buckbeak, a note strapped to his wing. 

“Write me—Your godson.” He read out loud to himself in shock. Scrawled in messy hand writing was the address to some muggle street in London, which, if the boy was more familiar with the wizarding world, was completely unnecessary. All owls needed was a name and they could find a person instantly. 

He looked at the large bird with a grin, then back down to the note. 

“P.S His name is Buckbeak.”

Sirius plucked the letter off and burned it with a flick of his wand, swinging his body over the bird as it squawked pompously. He patted the hippogriffs head consolingly.

“Well Buckbeak, you and I are going to have lots of fun.”

 

\------

 

 

Harry was standing outside of the great hall, Hermione next to him. Dumbledore caught his eye through the large open doors and gave him the smallest of smirks, as if saying, ‘I know what you’ve done, my boy’

He looked to the Gryffindor table as he made his quiet way into the room, aware of the many eyes on him. He was searching for one single person, and when his eyes met them, he gave them a blinding smile. 

“Ron,” he said, relieved as he sat down next to his friend, getting adjusted on the bench. 

The tired and yet trying eyes of his friend responded “Harry,” tightly. “’Mione.” He choked slightly on her name, still fiddling with his fork. 

Once they were ‘back’ he and Hermione made their way up to the great hall, passing by a pale McGonagall who only managed to give them a curt nod before sweeping back into whatever she had been busying herself with. 

Harry knew something was wrong when he saw his friend wasn’t eating anything, just scraping his fork against an empty plate. 

In the past two weeks, they had been through a lot. He supposed they still had the rest of the school year to finish, though.

He glanced down at the prophet, news of Sirius Blacks escape and Shacklebolt’s disappearance. He and Hermione hadn’t been able to save him, they still had no idea where Shacklebolt had gone off too. 

It had been exactly three days since they used the time turner, whereof he and Ron had had many stunted conversations and half-hearted greetings. 

Halloween was just around the corner, full of festivities that seemed dull. He was still reeling from the events, even though excitement like no other bubbled in his stomach at meeting his actual godfather. It felt out of place with all the bad that surrounded him though. 

Neville, around the corner next to Luna, had a pure look of shock on his face. He was holding a letter which had clearly just arrived at the early hour. After a closer look, he saw Dumbeldor’s signature scrawled onto it. 

“What? What is it, Neville?” Ginny bounced her foot, face abnormally subdued. 

Everything felt wrong. Felt out of place. He couldn’t imagine how Draco was doing right now. that thought sent him on another strange spiral as he remembered just weeks ago they had been ‘at each other’s throats’ and bitter ‘rivals’. It felt silly, now, even though it was very serious then. 

“Its...my request has gone through. After the winter hols, a resorting will take place, in which every year after second will be required to take place. It going to become an event, every year their going to hold a resorting after starting next school year! It’s impossible but their doing it! they called me brilliant!” Neville whooped loudly, a bright smile on his face. 

Harry felt his stomach drop. A resorting sounded awful, and every year, too? What if he...i don’t know, what if he ended up in Slytherin and all his friends in a different house? He would be bullied like—

But all of the Slytherin’s would be re-sorted as well, wouldn’t they? 

Harry felt his face pale. 

This was going to be chaos. 

 

 

\------

 

 

Luna watched Dumbledore distrustfully from the Ravenclaw table. Already he had disturbed them all with a speech, she did not want to hear what he had to say now. 

She listened to him explain the resorting with scrutiny. Next year they would start a tradition of taking every person and resorting them. Every year would go this time around, starting with the seventh years and moving down all the way to the second years. 

She couldn’t help but think this was a splendid idea. 

Her thoughts drifted back to Draco, making her wonder what exactly he was going to do and when he would get back to school. She had a feeling that he would probably come back after Halloween. And of course then finally serve out his detentions. At least the Gryffindors and Slytherins had earned some points for themselves after the massive lost that day at the pitch. 

Luna titled her head to the side. Maybe when Draco got back, she would make him a delicious bowl of soup with the elves. This time it would be significantly healthier than the cupcake idea. 

She smiled to herself as she thought of all the different ingredients she could plop onto the hearty soup. 

Luna had sensed something amiss and was incredibly thankful that Draco was now safe, but she wouldn’t be reassured until she saw him for herself. 

 

\------

 

Draco sunk into Ms. Zabini’s one armed hug easily, letting his face burrow into her shoulder. The woman was standing here without Blaise, since of course he was currently at school. Her perfume wafted over his nose, a mix of vanilla and pumpkin spice.

Gratia looked ruffled, her normally beautiful appearance marred by the creases under her eyes and the frown on her face. Her black hair was done up in a simple bun, her fancy dresses replaced with old jeans and an apron, her red lipstick fading off of her face. 

Her arm around his shoulder tightened. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbled into her shoulder, feeling vulnerable under her intense stare. 

“As have I, little one.” She murmured back into his ear. She stood up straight, but didn’t remove him from around her waist. 

“I’ve already signed up the papers for legal guardianship. Am I permitted to leave?” anyone else would have been much more irritated. They had probably been standing with full luggage bags for the past thirty minutes, annoyance understandable because how many papers and sign offs did they really require for this? 

“Have you gone over the new diet requirements and check-up schedules as well?” The medi-witch asked, tone clipped. 

“Indeed.” Ms. Zabini replied curtly. 

“Very well. You have permission to take him in.”

It had been three days since his residence had been decided, and for those three days they had spent time cooping them up here without seeing each other unless under the watchful eyes of aurars and medi-witches. 

He hadn’t got to truly HUG hug her yet, so busy with all the tests and rules. 

He took another deep breath and beamed at her, grateful that he would finally get to leave a place he despised. He had far too many bad memories associated with it.

“Zabini Residence!” Gratia said clearly into the flue network, swirling away as he soon followed suit. 

He landed with a stumble that his father would have beaten him black and blue for (not supposed to think, no supposed to according to Rita), but was swiftly helped up by Ms. Zabini’s delicate hands. 

Her green eyes flickered briefly, before lugging his suitcase that didn’t have much in it to the living room where she collapsed on the couch with a wavering smile. 

Draco had been sent as one of his many duties to pick out things from his house, which pissed off a lot of people because of all the memories associated with the building. But Draco had been there about one hundred million times before and could return once again. He hadn’t wanted much, his quill and a bunch of books from the library, his potion ingredients and vials, and of course, ever the rational he had gathered up much of his mother’s jewelry. Other than that, just the essentials like clothes, his tooth brush and combs, deodorant, shoes, along with his wands case. 

Draco’s heart warmed at what else was inside the suit case. A singular silk sock that Dobby had presented him. it must have cost the elf at least two months of his pay, but he had presented it to him with a large wobbly smile, “Now Draco is free too!”

The elf’s eyes had gone impossibly wide and bright. Draco remembered the way he had clung hard to the elf’s shoulders in a hug. 

He was going to have that sock fucking framed. 

He sat down net to Ms. Zabini, letting out a low sigh of relief. 

It wasn’t over yet. He was overwhelmed, overwhelmed with everything. There was still a twinge of unreality to it, like he never imagined this was even possible. 

Gratia glanced at him through the corner of her eyes straightening her back and rubbing her knees to get the blood flowing in them.

“I got a letter today from Blaise to you when he heard about his new brother. I think you’ll want to read it.”

 

\------

 

 

Harry sat down across from Ron, who looked slightly ill and very tired. Hermione looked as if she was about to burst. It had been so long since Ron had been normal, and when they asked if he was fine, he just shrugged and grinned before mumbling about quiditch practice and rushing off. 

Harry had scrapped man apology letters he was to send to the Slytherins, mostly because his brain was still buzzing with all that was around them. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ron?” Hermione repeated her question, titling her head as she stared at him fully. 

Ron snarled. “Jeez, yes Hermione.” He snapped, a change of pace to his normal reassurance. This, instead of deterring her, only seemed to spur Hermione on. 

“Really, Ronald? Look, it’s good to talk about these things, I know it’s bad—“

“You weren’t there, you don’t know how bad it actually IS! Stop pretending you know everything!”

Hermione glared. “I know JUST as much as you do, so back off—“

“You didn’t read it.”

Harry balled his hands into fists at the tension rising. He swept his tongue over the top of his teeth to ward away the saliva there. 

“Huh?”

“You didn’t read it. Not like it did.” Ron shook his head slowly. 

“R-read what? What have you read that I haven’t?”

Ron scoffed, crossing his arms. “His diary, Hermione. I read it. And don’t ask for it either, I burned it like i should’ve before taking a peek.” He explained, shivering. “I’m glad you didn’t read it.”

“Was it...Did it...”

“The things that have happened to him? How he thinks? He’s messed up, Hermione. I don’t know how he survived that house.”

Harry watched, grief stricken, as Hermione averted her eyes downward. He knew she was thinking of all the missing pieces of the mystery that was Draco Malfoy coming together. 

She rubbed her arms frantically, trying to rid the feeling of something cold from her arms. “We fulfilled the prophecy, you know, Ron. That one Blaise held.”

Ron rubbed his eyes. “Yea, I know. And uh, do you remember that whole list Draco made me? I guess I get why he was so worried.”

Hermione bit her lip. “You said you read it...What did Narcissa do?”

Ron froze. He swallowed ever so slowly, and spoke with a voice of shear devastation. “Their relationship wasn’t a mother-son one.”

It was Harry’s turn for his face to slacken in horror. Ron couldn’t possibly be meaning...

“She did. When he was really young, its implied. He wrote it all over the page, pleas for her to...for her to stop and...I can’t talk about this anymore.”

Harry didn’t really want to. 

 

\------

 

Draco looked at the two letters in his hand. One from the ministry, one from Blaise. He took the bitter pill first and examined the ministry’s. 

He read over it, sucking in the details. In a nutshell, before he returned to Hogwarts, which he would be doing after Halloween, they needed an official interrogation from him to properly convict his parents’ crimes and decide on how much money would be on their heads. They also wanted to know more about their affiliation with Voldemort, and strength against potions like veriteserum. 

He shivered at the thought. He wondered if Weasley kept the paper he made for him. That about summed up all the illegal things they owned alone, enough to sentence them to a lifetime in Azkaban alone. 

Draco, now here and alone, was struck with the realization of his freedom. No more curses. No more screaming. No more beatings. No more bloodbloodblood and hurthurthurt-

He pulled his legs to his chest, setting down Blaise’s letter and allowing his mind to wonder. Things were going to change. His father was out there somewhere, plotting and scheming, probably with the help of Sirius Black, who just escaped Hogwarts of all bloody places.

That wasn’t reassuring. 

Whenever he thought about it, it only got him even more down. 

His mother was still going to be able to hurt innocent people now. His father the same. They had so many ties he wondered if they were staying at a friend’s house right now, peacefully eating dinner and not suffering consequences at all. 

For the first time in a long time, hatred and anger rose to his throat, making his face twist in displeasure. The hate started just at his stomach and moved to his throat. He wasn’t foolish enough to complain about the circumstances, it happened to loads of people, but he was angry enough to rage. Rage about all the things that had been done to him, not comparing it to others pain and focusing on his. 

Anger at his father for the scars and hurt and the fact that somehow, his words still haunted him. 

Hate at his mother for ever laying a hand on him, for not protecting him from the horror of his house like a mother should. 

Draco swallowed his anger, but paused. He hissed between his teeth. The anger in his stomach coiled around him in a vice like grip. 

He didn’t want to be here. 

He didn’t want to be watched and examined like nothing but a dog. 

He was a person, with feelings!

They saw him as damaged goods. His parents did and now so did everybody else. 

He tilted his head and let the heat of his anger surround him, his cold eyes warming with vivid emotion. The heat enveloped him, consumed him and soon he couldn’t get the indignation out of his head. He did something he never before had truly let himself do. He acknowledged that what his parents did was wrong. 

And that it wasn’t his goddamn fault. 

Unbeknownst to him miles and miles away, the sun bore down on Malfoy Manor for the first time in thirteen years. 

 

\------

SIRIUS BLACK GONE MISSING

ESCAPING THE MINSITRY’S CLUTCHES ONCE MORE

THE MALFOY FAMILY FRAUD?

LUCIUS COLD-HEARTED

SPOILED HEIR OF MALFOY’S HOME LIFE REVEALED

LUCIUS AND NARCISSA GET OFF THE HOOK

SIRIUS BLACK BEHIND THE MALFOY’S GRAND EXIT?

PETER PETTIGREW BACK TO LIFE

HARRY POTTER AND HIS GRYFFINDOR GAL 

SAVING THE DAY IS ALL THE BOY-WHO-LIVED SEEMS TO DO

KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT ABANDON SHIP?

AUROR GONE MISSING?

AUROR INVOLVED IN THE MALFOY CASE MYSTERIOUSLY DISSAPEARS

Ron read the magazine bait drearily, staring at the words in abject horror. So much had been released, but he was thankful Draco wasn’t here for all the crazy whispering every student now took to whenever they walked down the halls. He understood how Harry loathed it so much now. 

He was currently with Hermione and Harry, walking through hogsmede. Each of them all saw the newspaper stand at different times, freezing up. Hermione dragged them away from all of the papers hurriedly, mumbling under her breath. 

He thought about the papers again. None of them put Draco in a...bad lighting. They took on the role more of a traumatized and obedient child, who didn’t seem to have of mind of his own. The made it seem like every action Draco committed now ‘made sense’ because of his horrible life. It frustrated him, because people didn’t always have reasons for things, and people didn’t need to be overly victimized to make you like them either. Draco could still be a bad person even if he had a shitty life, its just that his shitty life contributed to a shitty personality. Not that he thought Draco was awful like before, or anything, but he started liking Draco in that potions classroom when he helped Neville prior to knowing or suspecting his life.

He was glad the prophet didn’t get their hands on that diary. He made sure to burn it with fire, like Draco would have wanted. 

Ron heard a shout from across the area, shaking him out of his inward rant, and saw Remus Lupin rushing towards them. 

He stopped just before running into harry, tripping over his own feet. Harry and Hermione had explained Sirius Black to him, but there were many holes in the story, including how they knew the ministry was going to throw him back t Azkaban. 

He shrugged it off as best as he could. Ron didn’t much feel like shrugging things off anymore because look where that got everyone. Sirius Black was innocent, Draco Kingsley Shacklebolt’s wife wasn’t ill but murdered!

He kicked the rocks beneath his feet dejectedly. 

“Harry! Harry, m’ boy. I just wanted to return something to you. I have It right here?” Remus smiled at him, unfolding a tan and aged piece of parchment. 

Harry’s eyes widened in realization of something Ron hadn’t caught onto. Ron remembered Harry telling them something about...a...map? Was it the special map of Hogwarts? Why did Lupin have it and why, as a professor, was he returning it?

“Oh! Professor you don’t have to-!“ Harry lowered his voice, looking around inconspicuously, “Its yours, though, right?”

Remus smiled. “It was all of ours, and now, as the only heir, it’s yours. We want you to have it.”

“We?”

“Me, Snivellus, Sirius...James and Lily, if they were here as well,” Ron noticed the absence of Peter Pettigrew’s name with a churn of his gut. 

“Who was Snivellus? It was one of the ‘honorary mentions’ on the map, along with ‘doe eyes’ and ‘Alice and the Mad Hatter’?” Ron questioned, shifting forward with a tilt of his hip. 

“Oh, right.” Something like regret swam beneath Lupin’s eyes. “Snievellus is Severus, Doe eyes is Lily, an...Alice and the Mad Hatter are Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville’s parents. Those too helped make the actual paper with their knowledge in herbology. Severus helped with the potions ‘cause of course all of us were rubbish except for Lilly, and even she had trouble. I’m pretty sure we used up all of his patience before he even exited Hogwarts. We could be quite challenging.” By the end of his explanation, he was smiling distantly. 

 

\------

 

Draco smiled at the letter Blaise had sent him, filled up with the same insensitivity the boy always used. There was a brisk explanation of how things were going at Hogwarts, before he addressed that he had many questions to ask when Draco came back to school. 

He sighed and sat the letter back down, rubbing his eyes.

He was to eat dinner now. 

That seemed like a rather insane prospect, as his stomach already felt bloated and full. He was used to eating so much less, the food was practically climbing up his throat. 

His body twitched for stimulus, exercise, something that would make the feeling go away. 

His mind gave him a solution that he wasn’t really allowed to use anymore. Purging was not recommended by a single person he had run into (which was absurd, because it worked so well to stay thin). He didn’t understand why it was so bad. They could diagnose him with an eating disorder simply because he wanted to be thin?

He shook his head. He had to obey. 

He didn’t want to. Not now, not eve—well, it’s not like he really wanted to go through the horror of purging every day for the rest of his life...

He supposed getting ‘better’ now, might help him in the future. 

He was about to get ready for dinner when he realized he wasn’t at Hogwarts or the Manor and that wasn’t necessary. Fancy robes and facades would never be necessary again. 

His head burned and his stomach was still way too full and something was clawing up his throat and he was just so irritated everything was too much HOW was he supposed to stay calm when all of this felt awful?

He was still hyper aware of his stomach. And the headache that said he was hungry but he wasn’t because his stomach wasn’t. 

Too much. Too much light and too many walls closing in around him and his body was collapsing on itself weighing him down trapped inside his own shell he couldn’t escape. 

He whimpered. 

He tried to think back to happiness but everything was too dark for that. Everything was changing, everyone would see him differently. People would worry and not let him do things by himself. People would pity him and ask him ‘are you okay?’ constantly and they wouldn’t be able to have battles of the tongue because he was to sensitive and at a suicide risk gods how did this happen?

How did his parents control him even when they weren’t present?

He didn’t want them to control him. 

He wanted control.

He had that with purging. 

Now he didn’t have purging or his parents he missed his parents he didn’t have anyone they all pitied him he wasn’t going to be a person anymore they would treat him differently and they would think he was weak and sad and lonely and he was but they always exaggerated everything he was fine just—

Not. Fine. 

He was not fine and now they knew. 

A trapped sound escaped his throat and he stumbled, his back hitting the boards behind him his knees going weak. 

He. Was. Not. Fine. 

No, he wasn’t. 

Everything was too much and nothing was okay and nothing was fixed. 

He sobbed. 

 

Mrs. Zabini would later find him curled around the dresser, sobbing hysterically. 

 

\------

 

“Esteemed Dragon,

I inquire on how you’ve been doing. Despite the recent events, I hope that you’re faring better than fine. I myself have taken to realize that nowadays there hasn’t been a single report of imps anywhere in Hogsmede. If you’ve heard the news, than I assume you have come to the same conclusion as I have as to why the Imps left. 

Sirius Black has left Hogwarts grounds completely, and if his claims are to be believed, Peter Pettigrew has also. I won’t share my opinion as to whether or not he is guilty or innocent. 

I thought you would find it stimulating to look over the muggle newspaper I attached to this letter. It has some odd news inside of it, including speculation of ghosts or other beings haunting the townsfolk in the area I retrieved it from. I am under the impression this is where one of them may be hiding. 

How has the Zabini household been treating you? Just so you know your options are plentiful my house is always open if it ever gets negative. 

Have you been lucky lately? 

Luna Lovegood, via Black 

PS. I’m Iola Black and Bob Hitchen’s descendant, but I’m sure with your sharp analytical skills would have figured that much out before even reading this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first fanfiction, id appreciate if you'd leave a kudos or comment.  
> I will try my best to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, but school is starting up and I cant say a sure time, but rest assured this story will not be abandoned. 
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first fanfiction, id appreciate if you'd leave a kudos or comment.  
> I will try my best to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, but school is starting up and I cant say a sure time, but rest assured this story will not be abandoned. 
> 
> ~CalypsoHeidi


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